


Revenant

by no_regrets_coyote (athenadevice)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Hunters, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Baker Castiel, Community: deancasbigbang, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2014, F/M, Human Castiel, Humor, Hunter Dean, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Romance, Temporary Character Death, this is a pushing daisies au afterall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2014-11-14
Packaged: 2018-02-25 07:57:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2614232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athenadevice/pseuds/no_regrets_coyote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an incident that leaves two dead, Castiel learns at a young age that he has the ability to bring people back from the dead-but only for a minute or someone else will die in their place. Castiel swears never to use his gift for longer than a minute-that is until he finds a one Dean Winchester lying dead in the local morgue. </p>
<p>(Pushing Daisies AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Revenant

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [DeanCas BigBang 2014](http://deancasbigbang.livejournal.com)
> 
>  [Art Masterpost](http://star-dog.tumblr.com/private/102503079064/tumblr_neyl4qsNDu1qakhfq)
> 
> A huge shout out and thank you to my wonderful, amazing, and extremely talented (as well as extremely patient) artist [Tosh](http://star-dog.tumblr.com)
> 
> Another huge thanks to my beta [Sally](http://hamburgergod.tumblr.com). Without her this fic wouldn't have been posted (literally). Thank you!!!

_How terrible it is to love something that death can touch_

Prologue:

 

In the beginning there was nothing.

But before there was nothing there had been pain- pain and blood- followed by the sound of howling, of constant screaming and the feeling of his skin being torn from his body. There had been the cruel feel of steel upon his torso, the hacking of limbs before he was rebuilt- not anew but from his twisted guts and sinew, until, like Frankenstein’s monster, he was alive but not whole.

Then there was nothing.

It had been peaceful for those few seconds, those few moments when the heat of Hell had left his side. When he could no longer smell the burning of flesh.

After nothing and through the dark came blue. Or rather, blue eyes.

Those blue eyes blinked at him. He saw them only for a second before the light became all too much. He had grown so use to the dark that light was painful at first.

So first was nothing and then came everything and everything was blue.

-

_Past_

Castiel, age twelve, had spent most of the afternoon in Old Farmer Joshua’s backfields with his cousin Gabriel. It had been a day spent looking for small critters for Cas to study (and for Gabriel to torment) before it had turned into a never-ending round of hide ‘n’ seek that Gabriel had without a doubt won. Tired, but with the endless energy that all twelve year olds seemed to have, Castiel had walked home, certain that he would return to find his mother making dinner and his father locked in his office under the guise of working on his next great America novel, but secretly drinking.

The walk back had been nice- only marred with worry about grass stains that occurred from an impromptu wrestling match that Gabriel had (of course) started. Castiel knows his mother will scold him for it even though it had been entirely Gabriel’s fault. He also knows that Gabriel would get away with it; his older cousin has the ability to charm a nun, and would never be reprimanded for his bad behaviour. Mumbling about the unfairness of this, and the fact that Gabriel always played dirty (Castiel could never gain the upper-hand in their play fights), his evening looked to be spoiled, until he enters his street and hears the yells and whoops coming from his neighbours across the street- the Winchesters.

Sure enough, as he approaches, he sees the two Winchester boys playing out front. The younger one- Sammy- is holding two action-figures in his hands (a GI Joe in one hand and a Batman in the other) and is loudly emitting noises that are supposed to be machine guns. Castiel watches as Dean, Sammy’s older brother, grabs the Batman figurine from the younger boy.

 

“You’re such a geek,” Dean tells his younger brother. With a taunting laugh only used by big brothers, he holds up the toy so that it is out of Sammy’s reach.

“Give it back,” Sammy huffs, jumping up to grab the Batman toy. This only makes Dean laugh harder and raise the toy higher. To Castiel’s amusement, Sammy tries to tackle Dean. Dean, surprised by the action, topples over and the struggle for the toy becomes a wrestling match that Dean is clearly going to win.

Castiel smiles at the scene, but can only watch with longing. He has always wanted to befriend the Winchester boys since his family had moved in, but he was stuck between the two of them in ages and at twelve the differences between them felt vast. Dean is taller than Castiel and has started to gain a muscular figure that marked the transition from the cute (but beautiful) boy to a promisingly handsome teenager. Next to Dean, Castiel is too skinny, too short. He can’t be near Dean without feeling hyperaware of his every action. He’s gawky and awkward in the way that Dean is graceful and athletic and Castiel did not need the constant reminder of that fact.

Sammy, on the other hand, is two years younger than Castiel and there is a maturity gap between them that neither can help. Castiel has always been what others would consider “mature” for his age, and Sammy with his baby-fat and passion for action-figures seemed too young to him.

The wrestling between the two Winchesters is stopped by the stern but amused tone of Mrs. Winchester. Castiel had not spotted her in the front garden where she was watering the flowerbed. Despite her two sons behaviours, she looks clearly amused. She looks up and waves at Castiel, who returns the greeting meekly, slightly embarrassed for getting caught staring at her family.

Unlike the two Winchester boys, Mrs. Winchester- _Mary,_ as she had told him to call her many times- had always been much more approachable for Castiel. Her easy smile and welcoming manner had often brought Castiel into the Winchester kitchen (although she always made sure it was when her two sons and her husband weren’t at home; Mary had sensed Castiel’s unease with her boys and the pure terror that John Winchester had struck in Castiel). Whenever Castiel had received an invitation to come over, he was always greeted with a fresh piece of pie and vanilla ice cream at his appointed spot at the kitchen table where Mary would sit across from him and wait to hear about his days.

Even at twelve, Castiel knew that Mary Winchester was special. She is kind and sweet to everyone and almost everyone in the neighbourhood adored her. Mary seemed to know that Castiel is lacking _something_ at home. Not that he was neglected or abused in any way. It’s just that his parents had different ideals in terms of what is appropriate affection for their son. Both had kept themselves at a distance and were involved with their own activities; so much so that Castiel sometimes felt he was raising himself. Mary Winchester, with her ability to make people feel good (feel _loved_ ), had given Castiel the attention he so craved and needed.

The house was in one of those eerie silences where you know someone is home, but can’t hear or see them. From the kitchen, Castiel smells uncooked beef and hears the drone of a commercial jingle from the radio. It’s just past 4:30; and usually at this time, Castiel returns home to the sound of pots clattering and his mother muttering to herself as she cooked while the radio blasts Top 40 hits and Oldies throughout the house. If it was a good day, these sounds would be punctured by the sound of his father’s typewriter clicking away. These noises were routine enough that the current silence is unnerving.

Castiel walks quietly into the kitchen in fear of breaking what seemed to him a sacred silence.

The kitchen is empty.

The counter is covered with raw ground beef and fresh buns, which means hamburgers for supper- Castiel’s favourite. The radio, sitting on the window ledge that faced the backyard, blares Sam Cooke’s _You Send Me_.

Castiel scans the room, only to see his mother lying on the ground.

Or at least he _thinks_ it’s his mother. There’s a body on the floor that appears to be the same shape and has the same bright red hair colour of his mother, but her hands and feet are inhumanly blue and there’s an expression of peace upon her fact that Castiel has never seen before. He thinks maybe somebody has left a wax dummy of his mother on the flood instead. Castiel watches for her chest to rise, but like the rest of the room, it remains eerily still. After a minute of waiting, nothing happens, and Castiel reaches down to check her pulse.

Her eyes open up and she sits up.

Castiel lets out a bark of surprise, jumping back and away from his mother. He scrambles back, his back hitting the wall, which he frantically grabs for support. His mother looks around the room, eyes wide and confused.

“Castiel, what I am doing on the floor?” she asks like this is somehow his fault. She clutches her head as she gingerly rises from the floor.

“I don’t… I don’t know,” he stutters.

He was certain she had been dead. Although he had no personal experience with dead bodies (the closest he had come to _anything_ dead for that matter was road kill he had seen on the side of the road), he knew that someone who is alive isn’t _blue_.

“I must have slipped and hit something,” his mother says, looking at Castiel for confirmation. He nods. She looks as uncertain as he feels.

He watches her, looking for any sign of abnormality- other than the fact that she had been _dead_ just a minute ago. There’s a blush of embarrassment on her face and she’s slightly pale, but nothing like the paleness of when Castiel had first entered the room.

She moves quickly to the counter and begins to prepare dinner. Her actions are shaky at first, but soon she seems to find her balance and turns up the radio to signal that she’s ignoring Castiel.

He reluctantly leaves the kitchen. He has this sense of duty to stay and watch over his mother, but she clearly doesn’t want him there and he has the latest edition of _Hellblazer_ waiting for him in his room. The only reminder of the incident left is the feeling of unease that has gathered in the pit of his stomach.

As his foot hits the first step, he hears a cry from outside.

He runs into the front window, and sees the hunched figure of Dean Winchester over that looks to be Mrs. Winchester.

“Mom!” Castiel hears Dean cry out. “Mom! Come on! Wake up! No, no, no, no, no, no, no.”

Sam comes running out of the Winchester’s house, rushing to Dean’s side. The neighbourhood has been swallowed by a horrible silence, with the expection of Dean, who keeps calling out for his mother, his voice cracking each time he repeats it.

Castiel’s mother slips beside him, but he does not notice until the sirens of an ambulance bellow throughout the neighbourhood and his mother quietly says, “oh my god, Mary” before hurrying out of the house. Castiel follows behind her.

By this point, the entire block has gathered on the Winchester’s front lawn for this morbid show. A paramedic is kneeling next to Mary, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry, but she was dead upon arrival,” Castiel hears the ambulance driver tell Dean.

There’s an intake of breath from the crowd, but Dean just nods, his cheeks wet and a stony expression upon his face. Sam stands next to him, his face wet with tears, watching the police cars that are parking on the street.

“The police will have to call the coroner to attest this. Do you have anyone you can call? Your dad? A grandparent?”

“My dad,” Dean mumbles. Sam looks to his brother, lines of worry appearing upon the younger boy’s face.

“Castiel,” his mother calls. “Castiel. Come back inside.” She is now standing by their door. With her curiosity filled, it’s now impolite to stay outside. She beckons Castiel back into their house so that they don’t give off the appearance of being tacky. He slips quietly into the crowd, trying not to draw attention to himself.

He doesn’t see Dean Winchester watching him walk away.

-

The feeling of unease doesn’t leave Castiel and he can barely eat his dinner before he excuses himself. His mother kept talking about Mary Winchester’s death throughout the meal. While most meals in the Novak household had been spent in total silence, she spoke about how horrible it was for John Winchester to lose his wife and how the coroner couldn’t find a reason for why she died.

“It was just so sad, Charles. He said she just _dropped_ ,” she had told his father, who pats his wife’s hand, but otherwise is occupied with some papers he’s editing.

Although his bedroom was often a refuge from his family, tonight he felt trapped within it. From his window he could see into Dean’s bedroom. It was unsettling to see the familiar glow from that window after what happened a few hours ago.

Castiel tries to put the events of the day out of his mind, but he keeps seeing Mary on the ground, keeps hearing Dean screaming and Sam crying. Despite his unease, he must have dozed off because he wakes to see his mother taking _Hellblazer_ from his hands. Feeling blurry, he watches his mother place the comic on his desk before she bends down and kisses him goodnight. For a brief second, he feels the warmth of her breath on his forehead before he hears the sound of something heavy dropping to the ground.

She is lying on the floor again, looking just like how Castiel had found her that afternoon. No colour in her face, her extremities a cold blue and her eyes wide. Castiel moves beside on the floor, reaching out to shake her again. There is no warmth in her body, no movement to indicate life. For the second time that day, Castiel is looking at the body of his dead mother.

-

_Present_

“So whatta say, Cassie? Care to join me on this case? I’m sure I could cut you in this time. Say 60-40?”

“You are implying that you could not afford to pay me the last, oh, _fifteen_ times, Gabriel,” Castiel huffs. He’s kneading dough for the afternoon selections of pies, although he fears that the amount of aggression he’s taking out on it will ruin this batch. “You work for yourself, so we both know the money goes directly into your bank account.”

Gabriel lets out a dramatic sigh, shrugging as if to suggest “what’s a guy to do?”. Castiel moves to the fridge, taking out the peaches that were freshly delivered this morning.

“Yeah, well you seem to be doing just fine with your pie business,” Gabriel says, taking a swipe at the icing sugar on the counter. Castiel rolls his eyes at Gabriel making a slightly orgasmic noise as he licks the sugar from his fingers. “Whereas I am struggling.”

Castiel scoffs at this. Gabriel is currently wearing a suit that cost more than Castiel’s monthly rent and doesn’t seem to mind if he gets flour on it or not since he outright refused the offer of an apron, stating that he didn’t want to look like “Little- Miss Betty Crocker over there”. Gabriel is irritating.

“We both know that is not true,” Castiel says, inspecting a peach for any flaws. He picks a few that he deems perfect and moves back to the counter. Picking up a knife, he finely slices them. “And we both know that I do not have the time to help you with what many would consider grave-robbing.”

Gabriel scoffs at this. Gabriel is infuriating- not only because he spends most of his spare time teasing Castiel and harassing customers, but also because he abuses Castiel’s abilities to his advantage. It shouldn’t surprise Castiel, but Gabriel has figured out a way to make money from the dead (and it doesn’t involve working for a funeral home or in life insurance).

“Hey, it’s not my fault you never wanted the money. If I remember correctly, the first time I offered you any, you said something about “not wanting to profit from waking the dead,” Mr. High and Mighty.” Castiel can see Gabriel smirking at him from the corner of his eye.

Say what you will, but Castiel was raised a Christian, and whatever stance he now has on Heaven or Hell, he still feels that it’s kind of _unholy_ to use his abilities to make money off of the dead.

Gabriel does not have this moral dilemma. Maybe he was an angel in a past life and feels that he gets a free pass in this one because of this, but Gabriel doesn’t seem to mind making money off of _anyone_. According to him, anyone who allows him to succeed is a “sucker” and deserves their fate (or at least, that’s what Gabriel told Castiel the first time he lent him money).

Castiel has tried to refrain from following his cousin’s moral guidelines, but lately money was tight and he wouldn’t mind picking up another paycheck or two. It wasn’t that the pie industry wasn’t flourishing. It is, but he wasn’t really sure what he was getting into when he started his business. He certainly wasn’t prepared for the amount of money he needed to keep it going (a sad fact considering he has a degree in accounting). It was exhausting trying to balance numbers and do all the baking himself. And while his business is small, he does have regular and consistent costumers, all of whom have been alarmingly loyal.

So the pie shop may be rewarding, but that doesn’t mean Castiel wouldn’t mind some extra cash to- say- replace the trench coat he’s owned since high school.

Gabriel seems to sense that Castiel is going to give in and begins to beg. “Oh come _on_ , it’ll take you no time at _all_. You just _slip_ in, touch the dead broad, and ask her who wacked her. Easy-peasy!”

“If you find it so _easy,_ Gabriel, why do you require my service?”

“Ah, you know how much I hate footwork. Why go through the hassle of interviewing suspects who don’t want to talk or family members who are bent on crying, or breaking into houses for a slip of evidence when I can just hear it from the victim’s mouth? Come on, it’s not that hard for you. You just have to tap someone on the shoulder and get in the info.”

And there’s the problem. It’s just so easy to defy natural order and Castiel knows that there are consequences for doing this. He’s lived it first hand.

When Castiel had hit puberty, he had expected acne, hair growth and his voice to crack, not the ability to bring people back from the dead. And while it sounded all great and mighty to have this ability (“you’re a god!” Gabriel had cried out when he’s discovered Castiel could do this, “a god!”), Castiel had quickly found out that he didn’t really have complete control over human life. He could only raise the dead for a minute before natural order had to be restored and someone else would die in place of the recently raised. You would think that this would sort everything out, but life was a bitch and if Castiel even accidently touched the recently revived, they too would die- only it would be a permanent death.

So yes, puberty had sucked for Castiel; and after discovering his ability, he quickly swore to never use it again. He was content that it was himself that could bring back the dead (and not someone like Gabriel) and would have been happy spending the rest of his life pretending to be normal.

Gabriel was the only reason why Castiel still uses his abilities, since Gabriel was the also the first (and only) person to know what Castiel could do. It had been entirely by accident- Castiel had watched Gabriel’s little Jack Russell terrier get hit by a car (by a driver who had refused to even stop) and had decided to save his cousin’s long time companion. Unfortunately, Gabriel had seen the entire thing. At first he had been shocked and horrified, but he quickly realized that he could use Castiel to do his dirty work. Just _how_ Gabriel ended up being a private investigator puzzled Castiel, but he is a surprisingly good one, even without Castiel’s help. It’s too bad that he’s also a lazy one.

Knowing that this is the only way he’ll get Gabriel to leave him alone, Castiel agrees to see the body.

-

“You the dog expert?” the old man asks. His tag reads Rufus Turner and he looks like he spends his spare time killing things and enjoys it. This maybe why he’s the town’s only mortician.

“Um, yes,” Castiel says, looking to Gabriel for confirmation. He barely remembers what their cover story is, but he knows the facts about the case- a young rich woman had died in her apartment alone. It seems that she had been killed by a dog, despite the fact that she didn’t own one and the entire building was pet free. Plus, she had been on the top floor.

“We’ve already had the dog expert in today,” Mr Turner says, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. Castiel looks nervously at Gabriel, who pulls out a twenty-dollar bill and shit-eating grin.

“Yeah well, we’re the other ones,” Gabriel says, slamming the money onto the desk.

Mr. Turner eyes the bill. Castiel wonders how much business he’ll lose if people find out that he tried to sneak into a morgue.

“Uh-huh,” Mr. Turner says as he slides the twenty over. “Well go right in. Body’s on the right table.”

 

There’s always something unnerving about the city morgue. It might be because of its basement location or the solemn atmosphere that comes with the fact that it’s a place that stores dead bodies. Even Gabriel is quiet when they enter it. Today there are only two bodies out, normal for a small town. Only the one on the right is fully covered with a blue sheet.

Gabriel pushes past Castiel to the body on the right, pulling the sheet off with a dramatic flair.

“Ta-da!” Gabriel grins, but he pales when he sees the body. “Oh hell no,” he mutters.

“How bad is she?” Castiel asks, moving towards Gabriel and the body, careful to avoid accidently touching the other dead body.

“Not that bad.”

Castiel looks down and retches. “You lied,” he says turning his head. Great, now he’s looking at another corpse.

“Yeah, I do that,” Gabriel says with a weak laugh, looking slightly green.

The body doesn’t look like it could have been a random attack by a dog- it seems more likely a bear- or something larger. The body is torn, limb from limb and completely mauled, and there are slashes across the body that are larger than any dog could make. 

“There’s no way a dog could have done this,” Castiel states.

“You’re telling me,” Gabriel says, picking up the file next to the body. “I mean that’s what the police think and hey, they’re never wrong.” Gabriel lets out an eye roll at this. Needless to say, the cops and Gabriel have never really gotten along. “I mean she was found in an upper-level apartment building with all her doors and windows locked. They’re just nervous cause if it wasn’t a dog, then what was it?”

They both look down at the body. Castiel’s stomach lurches. _What did this to her?_

“Well, we both know that dogs can’t talk, so I need you to use your mojo and wake Missy over here.”

Castiel rolls his eyes at his cousin’s tack, but steps forward to touch the body.

Although Castiel has done this often enough, he always hates the moment when the dead spring back to life. It has the same suspense of waiting for toast to pop up from a toaster, but with twice the consequences. What was once an empty vessel is now a widely alive young woman.

“What the hell,” the young woman cries. “Who are you?”

“Well hello there, pretty lady,” Gabriel smiles.

Not only can Castiel bring the dead back to life, he can also heal them completely. This is another part of his power that he doesn’t understand, but for some reason all signs of decay and damage disappear at his touch. Now Gabriel is flirting with a dead girl, who just moments earlier had been so deformed they had almost vomited. Life is strange.

“Hello, we do not have a great deal of time. You are dead and he-” Castiel points to Gabriel who gives a little wave, “needs to know who killed you,” he rushes out. “Do you know what happened to you?” he adds gently.

“More than you’ll believe,” she says with a sniff. “Sorry boys, but I don’t think you’ll be doing any arresting on my part.”

“Yeah, and why not?” Gabriel asks.

“Because it wasn’t human.”

“Yeah, we got that honey.” Gabriel signals to Castiel to touch her again. “Unless you know who stuck the dog on you, it’s time for you to go back to sleep.”

“It wasn’t a dog,” she says coldly. “It wasn’t an animal.”

“Not human, not an animal? You’re kind of running out of options here,” Gabriel says. “Let me guess, was it Big Foot?”

The girl gives Gabriel a scathing glare. “He was demon,” she says scathingly. “They both were. Right out of Hell.”

“Could we at least have a name?” Castiel says just as Gabriel grabs his hand pulls him towards the woman.

“Lilith,” the girl slips out before she falls back onto the table.

“Why did you do that? There was still time left!” Castiel snaps.

“Didn’t you hear her? She’s crazy! Talking about Hell and demons. We both know there’s no such thing. She wasn’t going to give us a straight answer, so why waste the time if I’m not getting my cash reward?”

There are plenty of reasons, Castiel wants to say. She probably had last wishes or things she wanted to tell her family members. It’s Castiel’s duty to hear the dead’s last rights.

The door opens behind them and Rufus Turner enters.

“So, you figured out what killed her?” he asks, looking even more suspiciously at the two of them than before.

“Just a wild animal,” Gabriel announces as he draws the sheet over the dead woman. “Case closed on this Bela Talbot girl.”

“Uh-huh,” Rufus says slowly. It’s clear that he’s not convinced nor that he trusts either Gabriel or Castiel. “Must have been the same creature that go this dude,” he says pointing to the dead man on the left.

The man is mauled in a similar fashion to Talbot. His face is torn in half by what looks like a large animal claw and the rest of body is marked with angry red gashes.

“Care to solve this one?” Rufus Turner chuckles. “Since you’re the dog expert and such.”

“Unless he’s hiding a wad of cash up his ass, he’s of no interest to me.” Gabriel moves past the bodies, heading for the door. Castiel should follow, but there’s something familiar about the dead man- something he can’t place. He turns to Gabriel with a pleading look that they ask about the body.

Gabriel huffs. “What’s his deal? Another John Doe?”

“I wish,” Turner scoffs.

He reaches over for a plastic bag that holds all the man’s earthly possessions and dumps it on the table. Out spills what appears to be a collection of IDs. Gabriel begins shuffling through them with a passing interest. All the pieces have the man’s face on them.

“It seems like Mister John Doe here was into identity theft,” Turner explains. “Not a single one of these cards are real.”

“Nugent, Bachman, Bonham?” Castiel mumbles.

“Those are rock stars,” Gabriel laughs, lifting up an FBI badge.

“Like I said, they’re all fake. Can’t get a proper ID for the body and nobody around here recognizes him.” 

Gabriel’s eyes light up at that. “What, no missing posters? Nothing on the news? He’s a good-looking corpse, scratch marks aside. Someone’s gotta be missing him.”

“So far nothing. They found him in an abandoned house yesterday- just a few miles out of town. Police are worried there’s some wild dog running around, killing folks. But there hasn’t been a sign of any animal since. I’ve sent his pictures to the higher powers. Just waiting to hear back from them. If he’s wanted for any major crimes, well, case closed.”

“Good, let’s go, Castiel,” Gabriel says, turning to Castiel.

“Yes, of course,” Castiel agrees, although he’s hesitant to leave. He swears he’s seen that body from somewhere.

-

Castiel has seen more dead bodies than he cares to admit. The numbers have been steadily increasing since Gabriel pushed him into cases and the bodies have begun to blur in his mind. This always seems sad to Castiel. They were once people who had lives and families, likes and dislikes. But it had been best to distant himself from the bodies he brought back for a few seconds; otherwise he would never be able to send them back to whatever they had came from. Despite this, right now there’s one body that is occupying his thoughts- and it wasn’t even one that he had raised from the dead.

The apparent John Doe had looked oddly familiar to him, yet he can’t place where from. While it’s slightly morbid, Castiel’s thoughts keep drifting to the morgue and to the torn apart corpse he had seen there.

He is thinking about the corpse when Becky, the only waitress who works here (a mistake entirely on Gabriel’s part that Castiel had too much heart to fix), rushes to the TV set they keep in the back room.

“Oh my god, can you believe it, Castiel?” she squeaks out, flipping to the local channel news station “They actually found a serial killer here.”

Castiel hums to pretend that he is listening as he rolls out another piecrust. Becky’s chatter has long become background noise for him. She’s a hard and dedicated worker (almost passionate), but she did have the tendency to be excited about things that Castiel rarely found of interest. He ignores her as she stands in front of the TV set, babbling about how something’s _finally_ happened in this town.

“Dean Winchester,” a stern news anchorwoman states, “who was wanted on several counts of murder, attempt of murder, grave desecration, breaking and entering and credit card fraud has been confirmed dead this morning. His body was found three days ago in the small town-”

“What, what did she say? Who was that?” Castiel asks, moving to the TV. On the screen is a mug shot of the corpse he had seen just a few days ago. Becky rolls her eyes.

“It’s Dean Winchester. He murdered and tortured a couple of girls a few years back,” she tells him, her voice getting higher and higher like she’s excited about this fact. “He was killed before they could arrest him. Apparently he faked his death and it turns out he was linked with like a dozen different crimes. Managed to slip under the FBI’s radar and completely disappeared. Until now, of course.”

“And you said his name was Dean Winchester?”

“Yeah, Dean Winchester from Kansas. Apparently all that flat land drives people crazy there. I can’t believe they actually found him a few miles out of town.”

Castiel hasn’t heard anything about Dean Winchester or his younger brother since he was twelve years old. The Winchesters had left Lawrence right after Mary’s funeral, which had been the last time Castiel had seen either of the Winchesters before he was shipped off to boarding school by his father. When he had returned for the Thanksgiving holiday, the house across from the Novaks had been sold, and an elderly couple who gave Castiel cold looks lived there. His father had refused to talk about the move, but then, Charles Novak had refused to talk about a lot of things with Castiel.

“Yes, that’s interesting, Becky,” Castiel says, moving past her. “Excuse me.”

-

“Hello, Gabriel Novak speaking.”

“Gabriel. Have you seen the news?”

“Ah yes, hello there my favourite pie maker! Have you finally decided to pay attention to the wonderful medium of television? Are you sure you can afford to spoil your brain with all those pop culture references?”

“Have you seen the news?” Castiel repeats, choosing to ignore his cousin’s teasing. “The FBI has identified that John Doe we saw in the morgue.”

“And that would interest me because?”

“He’s Dean Winchester.”

“The serial killer?”

“Yes, the serial killer,” Castiel huffs, “but also my neighbour. The Winchesters lived across from me for a bit when I was a child, if you remember.”

Gabriel begins laughing on the other end of the line. “It’s always the silent type that attracts killers. Should’ve known you would have been friends with a few.”

“I need you to get me into the morgue before his body is moved.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Gabriel sputters. “You want to wake up a _serial killer_? I don’t know, Castiel, that kind of sounds like an abuse of your powers. Bringing back someone so that you can seek revenge on all those people who teased you in high school, seems kind of petty to me.”

“I’m not bringing back a serial killer to kill former classmates, Gabriel,” Castiel says. “And besides, if I was doing that, _you_ should be worried.”

“First, I’m hurt by that. Second, you probably shouldn’t threaten the guy who holds the keys to getting you into that morgue. I’m just saying that there’s no part of bringing back a dead _serial killer_ that sounds like a good idea.”

“I need you to trust me on this. I need to see the body. The Dean Winchester I knew would have never hurt anyone.”

“Really? ‘Cause there seems to be a lot of evidence that suggests otherwise.”

“Gabriel,” Castiel growls.

“Alright, alright. I need you to run out and get the best bottle of Scotch you can get your hands on. That mortician might need some buttering up.”

-

Whatever faults and misguided “morals” Gabriel has, Castiel has always been thankful for Gabriel’s impressive ability to go to places no one else can. Gabriel’s… _strong_ personality has its benefits and is one of the reasons how Castiel got his shop at such a good location and at a decent renting price. It’s also how Castiel is able to get into the city morgue after hours.

That being said, Castiel didn’t expect the hour to be just after 1:00 am. Gabriel has outright refused to join him, saying something about not wanting to be implicated with Castiel and the bringing back of a suspected murderer. Castiel also suspects that Gabriel doesn’t want to be in a building filled with dead people so late at night. Castiel can’t blame his cousin for that.

Dean’s body is where Castiel has last seen him, although this time he’s completely covered by a sheet, a plastic box of personal items next to the body. This stops Castiel. He’s not sure how to proceed with this barrier.

It’s so easy to bring a stranger back to life; there’s no real emotional attachment, no feelings between them, no history that involves accidently killing their mother. That’s something that Castiel can only share with Dean.

Castiel just wants Dean to know that he’s sorry. Sorry for his childish mistake that had lead to him causing the death of Dean’s mother. Sorry that Mary Winchester had to die for nothing. There was no switch of life- Castiel’s mother had died as soon as she had kissed him goodnight, like a twisted fairy tale that Castiel has to live with. He’s sorry that his apparent ability or gift has ruined Dean’s life.

He can’t breathe and he can feel the panic growing within him. He takes a deep breath, and lifts the cover.

The fact that he knows the corpse makes it slightly less bearable to look at it. Still, pale, and completely torn and broken lays someone who Castiel had seen laugh and play, had watched carefully at night in a frustrated and misunderstood childhood crush. Someone who had been his first kiss. Now there’s nothing left.

Where is he suppose to touch Dean to wake him? The face seems almost too intimate and the lips, which he especially wants to touch, seems even more so. The body is torn, barely human looking, but it feels wrong just to tap him on the arm, like Castiel does for every other corpse.

Fate has other things in mind for Castiel, for as he steps forwards he trips on his own two feet. To steady himself and before he can think, he grabs Dean’s shoulder.

Dean sits up.

Castiel lets out a yelp before he jumps back.

The only sign that they once were dead is a welting mark from where Castiel has touched them.

The Dean that is now looking at him is nothing like the corpse Castiel was just staring at. The only sign that he was once dead is a welting mark on his shoulder. Without the scars, with a face that is actually together, Castiel instantly recognizes his former neighbour. Dean has certainly fulfilled that promise of turning into a handsome man. With a facial structure that could make mathematicians and artists weep and clear green eyes, he looks nothing like that of a suspected serial killer. And Castiel is almost certain he is not.

Or least he did until Dean Winchester was standing before him, naked and with a gun pointed to his chest.

-

He’d been dead.

He was almost certain that he’d been dead.

This… this had to be a dream- an annoying fantasy before he was deemed “human” enough to gain conscious and endure Hell all over again.

He barely dreamed when he was alive, but when he did, his dream usually consisted of Sammy, of fireworks and of Baby. On bad nights he would dream of his mother and apple pie, but this was only at his lowest point, when he felt he deserved the guilt. So dreaming of a stranger (this had to be dream) was weird.

This couldn’t be real. He was in Hell. He _had_ to be. He had been camping out in an old abandoned house, just until he could get the next credit card he needed, and the next thing he knew, he was being carved alive, watching as someone took out a silver knife and begin slicing into him. The pain was unbearable, and he kept slipping in and out of conscious, only to wake to another implement being shoved into him. Finally he began to fade out and everything was black.

Now, everything is so bright. He’d grown so used to the darkness, to not seeing anything but a blurry figure or two, that the light hurts his eyes. He was in chains before- he remembered the feel of hot metal on his wrists, how it hurt for him to move his arms.

Now he feels the cool of metal upon his back. He’d been naked before and he was still naked, but he was covered now, just lightly. It’d taken him a second, but now he realized he was on a gurney and he could see a body sitting across from him- one that had been torn and ripped like he was. This is a morgue, although he has no idea where the morgue is.

His shoulder is burning.

There is stranger staring at him- one with bright blue eyes (the blue he must have seen when he first woke) and dark hair that sticks up and makes him look like a startled rabbit. The dude continues to stare at him, tilting his head to one side.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Dean yells, jumping off the gurney. The thin sheet that is covering him falls to the floor and now he’s standing in a morgue completely naked with some nerdy-looking stranger staring at him. With his oversized trench coat and the accountant suit underneath, Dean wonders if he’s some lowly FBI employee and if that means that the Feds have finally caught him.

Well, that’s embarrassing, but it’s the least of his concerns.

“I was _dead_ ,” he yells out. “I _swear_ I was dead!”

By instinct, he grabs his gun that is lying in a plastic box next to him. Dean hasn’t had a home in a long time, so the feel of his Colt 1911 is as close as he’s going to get. It also the same instinct that makes him point the gun at the stranger. He looks harmless, but you never know; underneath the Columbo jacket, he might be some black belt that could kick Dean’s ass. Dean doubts it, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.

“You were,” the stranger tells him (and whoa does he have a deep voice for such a scrawny looking guy). This isn’t told to him in a reassuring tone, instead the dude just says it in a neutral tone, almost bored like- like he sees people coming back from the dead all the time. For all Dean knows, he has. It’s not the strangest thing that Dean has come across (it’s amazing what you come across in late night dinners and truck stops at midnight), especially considering the fact that he’s been to Hell… and back apparently.

“I was in Hell!” he says, his voice breaking. His father would have called him out on that. “How I am here? I was in Hell.” His throat feels sore, rough and raw. He could kill for a glass of water. The man’s serene expression breaks at this and a frown appears on his face.

“Who are you?” Dean asks, his voice becoming increasingly hysterical. “How I am here? _I was in Hell!”_ He takes a step forward, making the strange man jump back.

“I’m Castiel Novak. I was your neighbour when I was twelve,” the man says quickly. “I knew you and your brother Sam. I was there the night your mother died.”

This stops Dean cold. He remembers Castiel Novak- the dark haired awkward little dude who lived across the street. Sure the guy in front of him still has the same hair colour, same blue eyes (the last time he had seen them they had been red from crying), but there’s no way that this guy is Cas Novak.

“What?” His head begins to pound and the light is still too strong. Why is his neighbour here? What is his neighbour- someone he hasn’t seen since he was fourteen- doing in a morgue? Everything is so white, so clean. There’s a man in a beige trench coat standing before him and Dean was just in Hell.

“Why I am here?”

“You died, Dean,” the man- _Castiel_ apparently, says. Dean scoffs at this. “You are currently standing in the basement of the city morgue. You were killed four days ago by what the police think was a wild dog.” Dean snorts at this. Wild dog, or something like that. “You are also a suspected serial killer, among other things if that matters.”

Four days? It couldn’t have been four days. He’s been gone for _months_.

“So I’m dead?” Dean says slowly. “I know I was dead. I saw the dude coming after me, saw the knife go in me.” Castiel looks up at him startled. “I was in Hell. How I am here?”

“You _were_ dead,” Castiel coughs, taking a step forward. He stretches a hand out as if to touch Dean, like he wants to comfort him, but drops it last minute, shaking his head. “I have the ability to bring people back from the dead. Don’t ask me how. I don’t know. When I touch something that has recently died, I can bring them back.”

Dean falters and lowers his gun. This sounds like all kinds of wrong to him. Dean’s said it before and he’ll say it again, what is dead should stay dead.

“Like for good? I’m not going to drop any second now, am I?”

“Only if you touch me,” Castiel says lowly. Dean raises an eyebrow at that, watching the little guy cringe. “I mean to say that I cannot have any physical contact with those I have brought back or else they can die again- for good. I cannot bring the dead back twice.”

“There’s no catch?”

There has to be a catch. The entirety of Dean’s life has been one catch after another and it’s not going to start now. There are tales of people bringing back the dead, but there are always consequences and they’re usually terrible ones. He’s never heard of someone who had the power to bring people back from the dead that weren’t dark side. Castiel- with his oversized trench coat and blue eyes- doesn’t look bad, but you never know.

Castiel lets out an audible sigh.

“No catch,” Castiel tells him.

“And I should trust you, why?”

“Other than the fact that I was one that raised you from apparent perdition, you are the serial killer out of the two of us. If anything, I should be the one with trust issues.”

Dean goes red at that. He tries saving one person from a skinwalker and all he gets is a crappy reputation. “So you heard about that?”

“It was hard to avoid. You’ve been all over the news for the last couple of days. The town has been… _enraptured_ by the idea that a serial killer has been “caught” here. You’re going to have to keep a low profile for a while.”

Dean snorts. “Yeah, that and the fact that I’m a dead man walking. You don’t mind hanging out with a fugitive serial killer?”

“Not really,” Castiel shrugs, although he looks slightly hesitant.

“It probably won’t reassure you if I say that I’m not.”

“Not normally. But I believe you,” Castiel says with a small chuckle.

“Yeah, and why is that?”

“Like I’ve said before, I know you, Dean Winchester. I’ve known you since we were both children. I know you would never kill anyone.”

He scoffs at this, remembering the number of bodies he’s burned.

“Huh, you’d think so,” Dean says lowly.

-

It’s a terrible idea to keep Dean alive. Castiel knows this. He knew it when he watched the second hand tick past the minute and he knows it now that they’ve snuck out of the morgue together. Not only was Dean declared dead and his body was in prep for burial, he was also of public interest and the FBI were coming tomorrow- correct that, _today_ \- to collect the body. Castiel knows he’s being stupid, but one look at Dean and he also knows that he’s done the right thing. Whatever Dean did, supposed serial killing aside, there must be a reason that Castiel has found him again after all those years. Castiel has faith in that.

But now he has a wanted serial killer in his apartment; a dead one at that.

“Is this okay?” Castiel gestures to the couch. “I can buy a cot in the morning if you want.”

“Nah, it’s fine. It’s just for one night,” Dean says, jumping onto the couch. After he spreads out, he looks around the room, a large smile on his face. Castiel feels self-conscious at once. The apartment is tiny- it barely fits him, but he only uses the space for sleeping since most of his time is consumed by the running of the pie shop or with helping Gabriel out. 

“One night,” Castiel echoes with a frown. “Dean, you understand that you can’t just walk out of this apartment. You are wanted by the FBI. Once they realize your body is missing, you’ll be of even more interest to the public. You won’t be able to leave here for a long time.”

Dean shrugs. “Hey, I’ve been keeping below the radar my entire life. This is nothing.”

Castiel stares at him. Dean remains unbothered.

“You don’t understand-”

“No, I do understand, but I’m not letting some Feds stop me from finding Sammy. He’s my brother, and he needs to know that I’m alive.”

“And what if you get caught? You don’t need Sam finding out that you’ve escaped death by the national news.”

“I need to see him. He might not even know that I’m dead.”

“Given that you’ve been headline news for the last few days, I think the chances of Sam knowing about your death are rather high.”

“Then it’s _better_ if he sees me before he _goes off_ and _does something stupid_ ,” Dean snaps, standing up from the couch.

“What amount of damage could Sam _possibly_ inflict upon himself in a few days?”

Dean lets out a harsh laugh. “You’ve clearly underestimated the extremes a Winchester is willing to go for each for one another.”

“Sam is an adult,” Castiel says calmly. “He can take care of himself for a few days. Until I see an actual emergency, I will not let you leave this apartment.”

“Let me leave?” Dean sputters. “ _Let me leave_. What are you keeping me locked in here like I’m Rapunzel or something?”

“If it comes to that- yes, I will lock you in here.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

Castiel’s not sure how they got like this, but right now they’re standing about an inch apart, practically breathing on each other. Dean looks down, his eyes wide with fear. Castiel realizes that his hands are raised, like he’s going to touch Dean again and end his life. It’s an instinct that he’s picked up from dealing with angry corpses. He quickly drops his hands and steps back from Dean.

“Dean, I know I don’t have the power to stop you from waiting to see your brother, but believe me, I am acting in your best interest. Just wait here for a few days and we can find him- together.”

“Or what, you’re going to zap me back to Hell?” Dean snaps. “Sorry buddy, but I’d rather be dead than stuck here with some necromancer freak.”

It’s amazing that Dean can strike Castiel without making contact and still hurt him. Dean’s right; Castiel is a freak. He’s an abomination against nature, and Castiel has struggled with this fact since the discovery of his ability, but he had always wanted to believe that there was a reason why he was given this curse- that maybe there could have been some divine purpose. But of course Dean is right; Castiel is just a freak, pretending to be… _normal_ with his- his _pie shop_.

Hearing Dean say this drains all the energy he has. He’s tired and doesn’t want to be arguing with _anyone_ at this time of night, let alone a formerly dead neighbour. Dean looks him apologetic, but Castiel no longer feels capable of replying. Instead, he slips out of the room and goes to bed.

He doesn’t fall asleep at first. He rarely does. His body is used to few hours of sleep and although he feels the lack of energy, his mind is still wide awake. He waits for Dean to leave the apartment, to go find his younger brother and to abandon Castiel again. But Dean doesn’t- at least not when Castiel is conscious. A few minutes after Castiel gets into bed, he hears Dean settle onto the couch. He continues to wait, but the door never opens and he hears a soft snore coming from the living room. All the tenseness he is feeling drains slowly from his body and he finally falls asleep.

-

His sleep is broken by a scream. For the few moments he’s awake, he has forgotten that there’s another body in the house and he’s startled by the scream.

He half expected Dean to wait until Castiel was asleep and sneak out, and is surprised to find him still in the living room. Dean’s shaking though, his blankets are on the floor. He’s muttering to himself, and Castiel can’t make out what he’s saying, but there’s panic evident on Dean’s face and all Castiel wants to do is shake him awake.

“Dean,” he calls out. “ _Dean_.”

The muttering stops, but Dean does not wake. Grabbing the blanket on the ground, he wraps it around his hand and shakes Dean. Through the blanket, he can feel a burning heat, so different from when Castiel raised Dean.

Dean’s eyes open and Castiel steps back, dropping the blanket onto the ground. Dean looks at him frantically before the look of recognition passes on his face and he relaxes.

“Dean, are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” he mutters, scrubbing his face roughly.

“You were talking in your sleep. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Just drop it,” Dean mutters, reaching down to pick up the blanket. “Please, just leave it.”

So Castiel does.

-

Castiel wakes the next morning to the sound of someone moving in his kitchen. It had taken him more time than he’d like to fall asleep after Dean had woken him, but every time he was about to drift off, he would swear he could hear Dean let out a moan or a cry.

When he enters the kitchen, he finds Dean Winchester attempting- or rather succeeding- at cooking breakfast, with a big smile on his face as he flips a pancake. It appears that despite the early disturbance, Dean has slept well.

“Hope you like pancakes,” Dean says cheerfully. Of _course_ Dean is a morning person- he’s so far been the most aggravating person that Castiel has met (a large feat considering the fact that Castiel is related to Gabriel). “You don’t have much options for breakfast.”

“Of course,” Castiel says, moving to sit at the tiny dinette table. “Although I am surprised to see you making your captor breakfast.”

Dean chuckles as he flips a pancake onto a plate. “Maybe it’s just the Stockholm Syndrome kicking in,” he says as he places the plate of pancakes in front of Cas. Castiel raises an eyebrow. “It’s an apology for my crappy behaviour last night. I guess I just woke up on the wrong side of the morgue.”

Castiel laughs, biting into his pancake. It’s surprisingly delicious. Although Castiel spends the entirety of his day baking, he rarely cooks breakfast for himself, only having time for his usual breakfast of coffee, pure and black, and nothing else.

“You’re being rather morbid for this early in the morning.”

“Says the guy who brings back dead people.”

Castiel’s smile drops. Dean looks instantly apologetic.

“I shouldn’t have bitched at you last night. I should have thanked you,” he says quickly. “You saved me from Hell. You don’t deserve all my bad attitude.”

“If your apology always involves freshly cooked breakfast, I might try to rile you up more often,” Castiel grins. Dean blushes before he turns back to the stove.

“Dean, may I ask you a question?”

“Knock yourself out.”

“You keep saying I saved you from Hell, but you can’t mean that literally?”

Dean nods, looking down at the pancakes in front of him, not making contact. “Yeah, I mean that in the most literal way.”

This can’t be true. Castiel knows Dean Winchester- or at least he knew fourteen-year-old Dean Winchester. The man before him might be far cry from his teenager self, but Castiel can see that Dean has changed little in some aspects. Dean had always had a wild, devil-may-care look about him, but it always seemed like a façade. Castiel had seen Dean with his mother and with his younger brother- he always seemed _good_.

“I don’t understand. How can a person like you end up in Hell?” he blurts out.

Dean lets out a hollow laugh. “Not according to some folks. I’ve done some pretty shitty things in my time, Cas. I mean I never murdered anyone, but the rest of things the Feds want me for, that’s real.”

“I didn’t know people were sent to Hell for credit card fraud, Dean.”

“Me neither. But, can’t say I didn’t expect it. Seemed more like I was just keeping a long-held appointment. Guess I just arrived early,” he says with a shrug.

Castiel’s not really sure what Dean means by this. But the look that Dean is giving him right now tells Castiel to drop the topic.

“Can you entertain yourself while I’m at work?” he asks. Dean raises an eyebrow and gives Castiel a salacious look.

“Yeah, I think I can find something. You know going to work is kind of against the whole kidnapping and keeping me captured thing.”

“Not opening the store would also raise suspicion.”

“You own a store? Whatta sell?”

“It’s a bakery. Really more of pie shop,” Castiel says humbly. It seems such a simple thing, almost pitiful to admit to Dean.

“That’s it? You just sell pies? Like real homemade pies?”

Castiel nods. He expected Dean to mock him for it, but there’s a genuine look of delight in Dean’s eyes.

“Man, I haven’t had any homemade pie in years. Not since my mom died.”

The room falls silent.

Some days Castiel forgets that he caused Mary Winchester’s death. He had spent most of his teenage years waking in cold sweat with the memory of Mary lying dead in her front year and Dean screaming and crying. The only way he could think of honouring her was by making pies- hoping that others would find the comfort in the food like he had. Each pie he makes he sees as an extension of the love she could no longer give. This had placed him in some sort of peace- or at least, kept him too busy to think. With the events of last night, he had forgotten the entire reason he brought Dean back from the dead. Maybe brining back Dean was his final redemption for Mary Winchester.

He doesn’t say any of this to Dean, which is stupid because that was only reason he woke Dean in the first place. Instead he leaves for work.

-

Some would call it hiding- Castiel prefers to call it thorough baking- but he spends most of the day in the kitchen, avoiding any contact with customers and with Becky. He fears this batch might be his worst yet. He’s too nervous to pay attention to the ingredients he’s mixing, and two of his pies have been severely undercooked. It’s almost a relief when Gabriel barges in. Almost.

“Gabriel,” he says weakly.

“Cassie,” Gabriel returns, eying up Castiel’s latest batch of pies. “Break time?”

Castiel knows better than to argue with his cousin, so he slices Gabriel a piece of gooseberry and moves to a booth in the front of the restaurant.

“So, Cassie, how did your old date with Ted Bundy go? Did you get the closure you so desired?” Gabriel chuckles. “He didn’t try and strangle you, did he?”

Castiel eyes his cousin suspiciously. Gabriel is famous for playing games with people, and Castiel has often been the butt of many of his pranks, but it seems kind of cruel even for Gabriel to drag out his conversation if he knew that Dean was still alive and kicking.

Castiel quickly glances around the restaurant; all of his costumers are peacefully eating their pies. There isn’t the panic that Castiel expected, which could mean the cops haven’t released anything to the public yet. Gabriel is clearly just teasing Castiel for the sake of it.

“I wouldn’t say closure,” he finally replies. “In fact, it may have opened another matter entirely.”

“That’s why you don’t wake the dead, Castiel. They’re better left alone. Unless that corpse comes with a nice little cheque attached, it’s best if they remain silent.”

Castiel rolls his eyes at his cousin. Behind him comes the sound of the door opening and Castiel glances up to see Dean Winchester entering, wearing sunglasses and Castiel’s clothing. Next to him, looking extremely tiny and vibrating with excitement, is Becky. Dean zeros in on Castiel and moves towards them with a purpose. Castiel groans just as Dean sits across from him- right next to Gabriel. Becky has followed and is practically bouncing next to them.

“Hey, sorry buddy, but I need to talk with your pal Cas here for second. Alone,” Dean announces at the same time as Becky exclaims, “Look who I found coming out of Castiel’s apartment! Doesn’t he look a lot like that dead guy?”

Gabriel turns to Castiel with a look that says he might smite Castiel. “Yeah, he looks exactly like that dead guy.”

Becky turns to Dean, “That’s a compliment. He looked like a male model even if he did kill people for a living.”

“Becky, do you not have some pies to serve?” Castiel asks roughly. Gabriel is still staring at Castiel with a small knowing smirk on his face. Castiel has seen that smirk many of times; usually when he’s about to get a large amount of blame placed on him.

Dean turns to Gabriel. “Beat it, douche-wad.”

“No can do. ‘Fraid little Cassie here has some explaining to do. Isn’t that right… Cas.”

Both turn to Castiel.

“I can explain,” he says meekly. “Although I am wondering what you,” he looks pointedly at Dean, “are doing outside of my apartment.”

“Sorry Cas, but you don’t have cable and I’ve seen all the re-runs of Doctor Sexy that were on today. Didn’t think it would do that much harm if I stopped in for some pie.”

“Castiel,” Gabriel says roughly. “Can I talk with you in the kitchen? _Without_ Frankenstein here?”

“Frankenstein was the creator, Gabriel, not the monster-”

“Just get in the kitchen.”

“Gabriel,” Castiel begins to explain when they’re safely in the back room.

“Don’t _Gabriel_ me like you didn’t just Burke and Hare a serial killer so that you could have some boy-toy waiting for you at home. Do you know how stupid you are being? Are you in love with him? Cause this is Romeo and Juliet level of stupidity.”

“When I brought Dean back from the dead, I only meant it for the minute, but I did not have the time to gain the closure I was seeking.”

“What kind of closure do you need? You don’t need his _forgiveness_ if he _, I don’t know_ , _just_ STAYED DEAD!”

“I killed his _mother_ , Gabriel!”

“Okay, _great_ , so you brought back a dead serial killer who is also pissed at you. I apologize. You’ve _clearly_ thought this one through. You’re right, not all plans can be fool-proof.”

“He doesn’t know,” Castiel whispers quickly. “I never intended to hurt Mary Winchester, but I killed her by proxy. I need Dean to know that.”

For once Gabriel says nothing. He leans on the counter, letting out a sigh, pulling out his phone. “Cassie boy, you owe me.”

“What are you doing?” Castiel asks carefully.

“I’m pulling out the big guns.” Castiel raises a questioning eyebrow. “Kali,” Gabriel says as if that’s an explanation. Kali had been Gabriel’s last serious girlfriend, which had ended in disaster like all of Gabriel’s hook-ups. It surprises him that Gabriel would have kept in touch with her.

“How will Kali help you?”

“She’s high up there in the department, like way high there. She’ll cover for us.”

Gabriel moves to the walk-in fridge and begins what appears to be a very animated conversation. Castiel looks in on Dean and sees him happily eating pie. Letting out a sigh of relief, he looks over to see Gabriel leaving the fridge. Gabriel lets out a grin as he closes his phone.

“So?” Castiel asks.

“I’ve saved your ass, that’s for sure. Kali has promised me that the Dean Winchester case has been closed- for good- unless he gets caught, you know, murdering someone. Thanks to typical bureaucratic incompetence, the Feds haven’t heard that his body is missing. One agent is dead though- some Victor guy who was guarding the morgue, so they’re busy with that. Kali is sending some thugs to keep the Turner dude silent, and I guess we have a dead man walking to take care of. I say you go touch the guy and we can just slip him back in the morgue. Everything back to normal. Or as normal as we’re going to get with you.”

Castiel frowns. “It seems like a waste of human life if we killed Dean Winchester. Can’t we allow him to stay?”

“Uh, hello,” Gabriel says, knocking on Castiel’s head. “Have you been listening to any of the words coming out of your mouth? Castiel, I’m sure if you figured out the seriousness of the situation. One FBI agent is dead because of you and we have a guy who can’t even spend one afternoon in your apartment without going AWOL walking around here. For the sake of, oh _our lives_ , I’m going out there and brining back knuckle-head over there and you’re going to non-sexy touch him back to death, capiche?”

“Shouldn’t Dean have some choice in this matter?”

“Yeah,” a gruff voice comes from behind him. “Shouldn’t I?”

Castiel turns around to see an angry Dean Winchester shooting daggers at both him and Gabriel.

“Dean,” Castiel says.

“You said there weren’t any consequences,” Dean growls. “But now some guy- this Victor dude- is dead because of me. You want to explain? And this time, _everything_.”

Castiel can feel his throat constricting. “I lied when I said that there were no consequences.” He hears Gabriel mutter out a “no shit” behind him. “When I raise someone from the dead it can only be for a minute. Any longer, and someone else will die in their place. I had planned on tapping you after I told you what I needed to, but I lost track of time- it was too late.”

“And you didn’t think that I would want to know that someone _died_ for me? Me being back is _wrong_ , Cas! You need to tap me, _now_. It’s the right thing to do.”

“Well, there’s something we can agree on” Gabriel says lowly. Dean glances over at him, giving him a scathing look.

“Dean, don’t you see? Letting you die makes that FBI agent’s death pointless!”

“Well, just zap him back and let me die. That should sort out natural order.”

“It doesn’t work like that. If I bring the agent back, someone else living will have to die in his place. Can’t you just stay alive?” he pleads.

“You knew when you zapped me that he would die?” Dean asks. Castiel nods. “Yeah, sorry, but I’m not suppose to be here. I was dead and I was suppose to stay dead.” Dean moves forward, reaching out to touch to Castiel.

“Whoa,” Gabriel yells out, pulling Castiel behind him. “Sorry, zombie boy, but I’m not having you drop in here. There’s health codes and stuff we have to follow. So can your angst and we’ll bring you back to the morgue so we can send you back to sleep.”

“Fine,” Dean says, staring at Castiel. “With me dead, at least there’s some good that comes out of this.”

“Well, I mean, it’s not all bad,” Gabriel grins. Both Castiel and Dean turn to him. “Oh, it’s just you got me another case to solve, this time with a big reward.”

“You’re not going to cash in on Dean’s death,” Castiel states firmly. It’s one thing for Castiel to have to kill his neighbour, but it’s another thing entirely if Gabriel thinks he’s going to make money out of it.

“No, no. I wasn’t talking about that. It seems _Dean_ here,” Gabriel points to Dean, “was just the beginning of what I like to call the ‘Hellhound Murderer’. Catchy title right?”

“What do you mean, Gabriel?”

“Well, when I was talking to Kali, she might have mentioned that the FBI have been following a killer for a while that has the same M.O. as Dean’s little murder here. The victim is always found in a locked room, brutally murdered and their bodies ripped apart, like some wild animal has caused it. Usually he kills in pairs, taking the best and the prettiest- almost like a ritual sacrifice. I’d hate to admit it, but Sleeping Beauty here and that Bela chick sure do meet the criteria for it.”

“Yes,” Castiel agrees. “They are both unusually attractive.” He can hear Dean let out an awkward cough behind him.

“So the guy that killed me is still out there, harming people?” Dean asks, looking slightly red.

“Looks like it.”

Dean pales. “And the FBI has no leads?”

“Nope!” Gabriel gives Dean a pointed look. “Unless some former corpse comes forward and starts talking, he’s going to keep killing, and keep hurting people.”

“I don’t think I can help you,” Dean says quickly. “I don’t remember much about how I died.”

Castiel is sceptical about this. Every corpse he was wakes usually wake like they have fallen asleep for a few minutes before their death. Often they were confused, and fearful- just like how Dean was when Cas had brought him back. In all of Castiel’s experience there’s no such thing as Heaven or hell- Castiel has asked enough to know better. All corpses return with their last memory of being on Earth. There’s no report of seeing fluffy clouds or of the fiery pits of Hell. Except for Dean.

“Dean,” he says gently.

“ _No_ , Cas,” Dean moves away from him. Before Castiel or rather Gabriel can stop him, Dean rushes out of the kitchen. Gabriel follows after him, only to return a few minutes later shaking his head.

“Boy, he must be one of those runner zombies, cause he sure is fast.”

“We have to find him,” Castiel tells Gabriel. Gabriel nods, but doesn’t look too bothered by this fact.

“Where’s he going to go? We have his car in lock up and he’s legally dead. Can’t get far.”

-

Gabriel is right. When Castiel returns to his apartment, he finds Dean sitting in his living room, nursing what appears to be a bottle of Jack. Dean barely gives Castiel a second glance when he enters.

“Dean,” he asks quietly. Dean just shakes his head. “Dean, I know you’re not okay. I’m here if you need to talk.”

Dean lets out a shaky laugh. “Right, the talking. Like you were all for it when you refused to tell me the truth about how me being alive killed that agent.”

“Dean,” he says gently. “All of this is my fault. You shouldn’t feel guilty because I let someone die.”

“For me.”

“For you,” Castiel admits, drawing in a deep breath. “But that is entirely in my hands. I should shoulder that burden, not you.” Dean scoffs, looking away. “Dean, you understand why I can’t touch you?”

“Cause you need me around so that you can justify that guy’s death? So you can convince yourself that what you’ve done is right? Sorry Cas, but all you did was bring back a high school drop- out with four bucks to his name. I’m a loser, Cas. I wasn’t worth saving.”

“You really think that? You think you don’t deserve to be saved?”

“Yeah, I do,” Dean says, taking a swig from his whiskey bottle. “But if I’m here, I might as well be of some help. I’ll help you and that Gabriel dude on your case. But I have some conditions.”

“Of course,” Castiel reluctantly agrees. He’s not sure what is going through Dean’s head, but if it means that Dean is willing to stick around for a while, he’s all for it.

“When we finish the case, I want to see Sammy and then I want you to let me die.”

“Dean, I can’t-”

“No,” Dean says sharply. “You brought me back here. You owe me.”

Castiel does and in so many more ways than Dean thinks. He nods in agreement. “That seems… fair.”

“I’d say we should shake on it,” Dean chuckles, “but that would kind mean me backing on my side of the bargain. We have a deal?”

“Yes,” Castiel reluctantly agrees.

“Good,” Dean nods, taking another swig from his bottle. “You should call that Gabriel dude, let him know I’ll help with his case. But I don’t want to talk with him tonight.”

“He’s my cousin.”

“No shit,” Dean mumbles with suprise, lying back on the couch. “Now, that I don’t believe.”

-

Dean doesn’t sleep that night. His dreams are filled with blood, hidden by dark and the only thing he can remember when he wakes is a pair of yellow eyes staring up at him. Castiel has to wake him again and once again he’s lost before he realizes where he is and that he’s alive. This must be how soldiers feel when they return from war, knowing that they’ve faced Hell and must still keep going through the ordinary. He’s not sure he can do this every night- that falling asleep is even an option.

He tries to fall asleep after Castiel wakes him, but every time he comes close to it, he wakes again in panic. He can feel himself slipping in and out consciousness; and every time he slips into slumber he can feel his limbs being sliced into, can feel the hot breath of whatever _creature_ is doing this on the back of his neck. He feels sick.

After that, he quits trying to sleep and gets up to make breakfast. Castiel enters the kitchen just after 9, looking less than pleased to be awake. Dean’s only spent two nights with Castiel and he already knows the dude’s a grump when he wakes up. Still, he doesn’t try to be pleasant- he doesn’t want to. While Castiel might look all cute disgruntled, Dean still hasn’t forgiven him for purposely lying to him. A better person would have acknowledged Cas’s greeting, but Dean’s never been the better person and he ignores him.

Gabriel comes bursting in half way through their silent breakfast. The guy comes in all bright and cheery and apparently completely oblivious to the cold war that’s playing out.

“Well hello there Orpheus and Eurydice. Sleep well? Nice to see you both awake and breathing,” he announces, the last part being an obvious dig at Dean. If there weren’t some moral issue with him being alive, he would keep on breathing just to spite Gabriel.

Gabriel moves pushes past them, hurrying to the kitchen and begins making coffee.

“Ouch,” he says when Castiel and Dean follow him into the kitchen, giving them both a quick glance before he starts dumping what looks the entire content of the sugar bowl into his mug. “I take it you guy didn’t have sweet dreams last night,” he says, smirking at the two of them.

Dean can feel himself growing increasingly irritated as Gabriel talks. Gabriel it seems has the ability to pick up and pry into whatever makes people uncomfortable and he certainly looks like he takes pleasure out of it. Castiel says nothing beside him, sort of just standing there looking emotionless. Honestly, it freaks Dean out more than Gabriel being a jerk. When neither respond, Gabriel just shrugs, grabs a plate full of French toast and moves back to the living room. Castiel lets out a sigh and follows, leaving Dean with no choice but to trail after them. 

“So, what’s the plan?” Gabriel asks, his mouth now stuffed with food. “You two sorted everything out?”

“Sort of,” Castiel mumbles.

“Yeah, everything’s just peachy now,” Dean says, giving Castiel a warning look. They’re the only two people who need to know about their deal and that’s the way it’s going to stay. Gabriel looks disinterested anyway.

“I’m on board with helping you catch the guys who killed me,” Dean announces. At this, Gabriel instantly perks up.

“Guys?” he asks. “You mean it was more than one person? Feds think it’s just one guy.”

“Yeah,” Dean snorts. Typical of the FBI. They’re completely out of their league on this one. “More like whole legion of them. It’s a cult.”

“And you know this how?” Gabriel asks, stuffing another fork full of French toast into his mouth. Castiel grimaces.

“Been tracking them since I was fourteen. I know it’s them.”

For the first time today, Castiel makes eye contact with him and pales. “What do you mean, since you were fourteen?”

“I’m saying me, dad, and Sammy have been looking for the _things_ ,” he spits out, “that killed my mom since the night she dropped dead. Right after her funeral we just up and left to go search for them. Dad was convinced that this cult was somehow involved with her death. I mean, he didn’t at first, but he kept searching for answers for how she could have just dropped like that and he came across them. We’ve been spending the last decade or so looking for them. Tracking them.”

God, it seems like forever since Dean has stayed in one place for long time. Ever since 9th grade, he’s been moving from school to school, living out of motel rooms while his dad looked for things responsible for his mom’s death. He had watched Sammy grow up and leave them for Stanford- not unexpected, the guy was always too smart to be stuck with Dean and John Winchester while they “wasted their lives looking for the monster under the bed”. It seemed so important then for Sammy to stick with them, but since Dean’s died, he’s kind of glad that Sammy made it out of the life. He’s probably some rich lawyer somewhere, who's super embarrassed that he’s related to a suspected serial killer with a GED. Probably glad he’s dead.

“You’ve been tracking some cult for the last decade?” Castiel asks.

“Roughly. Hard to catch their tracks. They’re good at what they do. I mean, remember how I looked in the morgue? Would’ve you guessed that a person did this to me?”

Castiel looks sicker by the minute. He shakes his head.

“You’re sure it’s the same guys you were tracking that killed you?” Gabriel asks.

“Positive. It’s what your Fed friend said; they kill in twos, a female and a male pair, and make it look like some wild animal has had at them. And it’s part of some ritual. They only do it once a month and never in the same spot twice. Makes it almost impossible to catch- if you haven’t figured out their pattern.”

“And you have.”

Dean leans back and nods. “Yup.”

“So, you going to tell us?”

Dean shakes his head. “Not until I get some part of my bargain. I want to find my brother. I need to talk with him before I go.”

Gabriel looks quickly over to Castiel, before looking back at Dean. The action is so fast, that Dean almost misses it.

“I’m sure we can arrange it,” Castiel says quietly.

“And I want to see him before we go after these guys. I’m not going back to my grave without at least saying bye to Sammy.”

“We need to catch them quickly- you say they kill monthly,” Gabriel protests. “You’re planning on doing work that takes the FBI years to do in just a matter of weeks. No can do, Dean-O. We need to find these guys.”

“First off, don’t call me that ever again, and second, I told you, I know where they’re going to strike next.”

“And you’re not going to tell us until you see your precious brother,” Gabriel sighs.

“Bingo.”

Gabriel turns to Castiel. “Can I talk to you alone?”

“Go ahead, but he’s not my trainer,” Dean tells him. “Right now you need me and I’m not seeing any other choices.”

Castiel looks tiredly at Gabriel, who lets out a growl. “Cas, in the kitchen, alone.”

The apartment’s tiny enough, so it isn’t like Dean has to try too hard at eavesdropping into their conversation. Also, it doesn’t help that as quiet as Castiel has been all morning, he certainly isn’t hold back now.

“He’s bluffing, Castiel, he doesn’t know anything. He’s just playing you so that you don’t zap him before he sees his younger brother.”

“Gabriel, I owe him-”

“You don’t owe him anything. And I’ve said before, you won’t owe him anything when he’s dead. Go back there, trick him over to the morgue and touch him! He’s not going to complain then. I’m not having this discussion again with you again.”

At this, they lower their voices and Dean has to move closer to the door to hear anything.

“And how do you propose we trick him,” Castiel says lowly. Dean’s not sure if he’s being serious about this question or not- it’s hard to get a read on him.

“Just get him… threaten to touch him if he doesn’t… it’s easy”

Dean looks around quickly, trying to figure a way to one up them. Gabriel has left his jacket on the couch and by one quick pat down tells him that Gabriel’s wallet is in there. Grabbing that, a pair of sunglasses, and an ancient looking cell phone that looks like Castiel probably never uses, he books it out of there.

-

Never in Dean’s life did he think he would be grateful for being back in some one-star motel room. Granted, he also never thought he would be raised from the dead by a dude who dresses like stunted, hotter version of John Constantine. Either way, a leopard-print theme motel room is better than his option, which apparently is being dead.

It’s almost midnight and he’s exhausted from running around town, trying not to get caught by either the police or Castiel and Gabriel. Thank whoever that Baby was still in police, and not state, custody. It had been a bitch, but he had freed Baby from the compound and managed to get a state over before lack of sleep caught up with him. Bobby will have to wait until tomorrow.

Now he has time to collect himself. He’s without his wallet and phone, which are still in police custody. He’s tried all of Sam’s phone numbers that he can remember, but doesn’t get through. Dean’s not surprised by this. After their big blowout, just before Sam went to Stanford, Sam had deleted everything and switched phones, cutting off any attempts for them to reconnect. So now Dean’s only hope is Bobby, who sure as hell knows he’s dead.

He grabs a beer and turns on the Pay-Per-View (courtesy of Gabriel Novak) and settles down just as there’s a knock on the door.

“Open up, chuckle-head, we know you’re in there.”

Dean reaches for his gun, but opens the door.

“Looking good, Frankenstein,” Gabriel says, pushing into the room. Dean steps aside and opens the door so Castiel can enter.

“Gabriel, I’ve told you before, Frankenstein was the creator, not the monster,” Castiel says tiredly. He gives Dean a pitying look and moves across the motel room.

Gabriel’s eyes light up when he sees what’s on the TV screen.

“Casa Erotica? Good use of my credit card, Dean-O.”

Dean’s good at credit card fraud and he knows better than to use a stolen one for porn, but, god, he thought he had, oh a good five hour advantage on them and would be way out of dodge before they even got into the state. Clearly, he was wrong.

“Didn’t think you guys would be so quick on my tail,” he tells Gabriel.

Gabriel snorts. “I’m a private detective, you ass. I have my ways. And a 1967 Impala isn’t really that hard to track. Plus it helps that your exact location comes up when you charged this room to my account.” Gabriel snaps his two fingers and holds out a hand for the card.

“Here, have it,” Dean says, tossing it over. “Was going to trash it tomorrow anyway.”

Dean turns around, only to see Castiel glaring at him, arms crossed like a pouting child. “What’s your problem?”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “My ‘problem’,” he says, air quotations and all, “is that you didn’t trust me to help you. You are so hell-bent,” Dean snorts at this, “on finding your brother, you didn’t think about what it would mean to me if you left. I am helping you, Dean Winchester. I’m always going to take your side.”

“Yeah right,” he snarls. “Like you two weren’t planning on getting me back in the morgue just to kill me again. No thanks, I’m going to find Sammy, whether you like it or not. And I’m not going back with _you_.”

“Dean,” Castiel reaches out to Dean, but quickly pulls back. “I want to come with you. Plus,” he says with a humourless chuckle, “if we really wanted to get rid of you, we could have ‘zapped’ you in my apartment. It would have been difficult, but it’s not the first time we’ve removed a body from there.”

Gabriel shoots Castiel a look, frowning.

“Sorry, but you’re just going to slow me down. I’ll be back when I find Sammy.”

“Dean,” Cast says roughly, stepping forward. “The only reason you can even talk to your brother is because of me. You can at least do me a favour and let me follow you on your inane quest to find him.”

Screw Cas for playing the saviour card. Dean never liked the idea of owing people a favour and this is a big one. He does literally owe the guy his life, even if he is giving it up in a couple of days.

“I’ll do it, but you have to promise me that you won’t keep hanging that fact over my head.”

Castiel nods. “I can do this, but only if you agree not to keep bringing up Victor Hendrickson.”

Fair enough. “Fine, you can come, but this douche,” he points over to Gabriel, “isn’t welcomed to join us.”

“Hey, that’s no hair off of my back. I’ve got a hot date waiting for me and that’s way better than going on a road trip with Romeo and Juliet.” Castiel scowls at Gabriel, who ignores him. “So where’s baby bro located?”

“I don’t know,” Dean admits. “He’s changed his phone number since I last had it.”

“And when was that?”

“When I was twenty-two.”

Gabriel lets out a whistle. “Sounds to me like he doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“It’s complicated,” Dean snaps. “Since I can’t get a hold on Sammy, my best bet is an old family friend. Lives hear Sioux Fall in South Dakota. It’s less than a day’s drive.”

“So, you’re just going to show up on his door step and he’ll tell you where your prodigal brother is at?”

“Yeah, if he doesn’t shoot me first.”

Gabriel snorts. “Good luck kid.”

-

Castiel wakes the next morning in a strange place. He hasn’t slept anywhere else but his own bed in many years and he panic for a moment before he sees the figure of Dean sleeping next to him in the bed over.

Gabriel had left during the night, preferring to drive back on three cups of heavily sugared coffee rather than sleep in a tacky motel room.

Slipping out of the covers, he sits at the edge of the bed, glancing over to Dean, watching his back rise slowly and peacefully.

It’s funny that people often compare death and sleep, yet as Castiel watches Dean, he knows that he is unmistakably alive. The Dean he sees here- laying on his stomach, head tucked deeply into the pillow- is nothing like the body he found lying in the morgue. Watch the pattern of Dean’s back slowly rise with each breath gives him more comfort than he would ever care to admit.

“What, do you get your freak on by watching other people sleep?” Dean says gruffly, shaking Castiel from his meditative state.

“I thought you said you wanted us to get a head start,” he says quickly, jumping from the bed.

Dean stares at him for a moment, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Yeah, I guess I did,” he says, turning over. He lies there, looking reluctant to move. It seems all the urgency Dean had the night before has left during slumber.

“You want to see Sam?” Castiel reminds him gently. A dark look briefly passes on Dean’s face.

“Yeah, of course I do.” Still Dean does not move. He sits there, looking shell-shocked.

“Dean, are you okay?” Castiel asks quietly.

For a second, Castiel swears that Dean is going to lie to him, but Dean swallows,  “It’s just weird, you know? Waking up and not being, you know, _dead_. Not in Hell. Doesn’t feel real.” Dean looks up now with a wide smile on his face. “Well, time to find Bobby,” he says, getting off the bed.

“Dean-”

“No, I don’t want to talk about it. Thanks for asking, but it’s better if you leave it alone,” Dean says briskly, slamming the bathroom door behind him.

-

They drive in silence. It’s a reluctant one on Castiel’s part and a stubborn one on Dean’s. The thought that they’ll be spending the next seven hours like this is unbearable, but every time Castiel opens his mouth, Dean reaches for the radio dial, turning it up so that Castiel can’t even think, let alone speak. This continues until Dean announces that they’re going to take a break and pulls into an ancient looking gas station.

Castiel stares sourly at it, but Dean lights up like he’s just found home, and heads in without a word to him. He follows, if only to keep an eye on Dean.

There’s no TV in the gas station, which is a relief. The man at the counter looks to be in his late 70s and he’s reading a porn magazine without even the decency to blush when the two men enter. He takes their cash for fuel and for what some regard as food without batting an eyelash.

“Where you boys heading?” he asks them eagerly.

“Sioux Falls, South Dakota,” Dean says, making Castiel jump a little. Even if Dean says it in the rudest manner possible, it is nice to hear his voice.

“Oh, that’s nice, I’ve got a niece up there, you heard of her?” The man and Dean begin talking about the area and who Dean might know. Castiel watching them talk with a smile.

“It’s a nice town,” the man concludes, “Nice enough to accept you folks,” he says, turning with a big smile at Castiel.

“Oh, we’re not tog-”

“Yeah, it is,” Dean beams, stepping closer to Castiel, making them look intimate but with enough distance that there is no chance of them touching.

The man keeps beaming as they bid farewell.

As soon as they exit the store, Dean moves away from Cas. Again, they fall into a stony silence and Castiel refuses to spend the rest of the car ride like this. He speaks up before Dean can shut him out again.

“Dean,” he says, “I will not continue our entire drive like this. You need to speak to me.”

“Yeah? About what?” Dean snaps. Castiel presses himself against the driver’s door. Dean moves to push past him.

“Don’t touch me,” he accidently yells out. He can see the man from the counter turn his head in their direction.

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean mutters before reaching out again.

“You can’t touch me, remember?” Castiel hisses. “If you do, you die… again.”

Dean steps back. “What are you just going to keep me hostage here until I gush my _feelings_ to you?”

“I’m not asking you to discuss your feelings with me, but I am tired of being ignored.”

“Fine, I’ll talk with you. I’ll be old chatty-Cathy if you want. Just let me get into my car.”

Castiel knows that this is not a victory by any means, but he steps aside, careful to avoid any contact with Dean and moves to other side of the car. Dean gets in, muttering to himself as he turns on the engine.

They pass the next several hours playing catch up and for a moment it feels like two old friends meeting after years of not speaking. Dean talks about Sammy and how he got into Stanford of all places, how the last time he spoke, Sam had been planning on becoming a lawyer. Life seems to be good for Sam. Dean’s, on the other, Castiel only learns about through the contrast of Sam’s. While Sam had finished school with full honours and a scholarship, Dean had to drop out. When Dean tells Castiel that he got his GED, there’s a sense of hidden pride in Dean’s voice, like the man rarely gets to talk about his accomplishments.

Castiel doesn’t have much to add, except that he went to school for accounting, but had minored in religious studies, a topic of true interest to him. He had stumbled into the idea of opening his own pie shop after his roommates’ compliments about his stress baking.

“And that’s what I’ve been doing since.” It doesn’t sound like much- at least compared to Dean, who has travelled around the country and has seen almost every walk of life. Castiel has lived in three states in his entire life and he feels like he’s missing out. Dean tells tales of gate crashing a fancy auction all so he could get his wallet back, of pretending to be an assistant on the set of some crappy B horror movie. Castiel has a bank loan to pay off and the only person he sees on a regular basis in his cousin It makes him seem like his life is so empty.

“God,” Dean laughs after Cas tells Dean about a time in college where Gabriel had managed to fake a UFO spotting, “I wish I had what you had.”

“A cousin who nearly got me kicked out of school?”

“No,” Dean shakes his head, waving his arm at Castiel. “Just a normal life.”

“Normal? Dean, I do recall you calling me a necromancer freak,” he says lightly.

“Yeah, I did apologize for that,” Dean reminds him. “I mean aside from that, you’ve pretty much got the apple pie life. You went to college, opened up your own shop, you’re… _respectable_.”

“Well, don’t say it like it’s a bad thing, Dean,” Castiel snorts.

“I’m not!” Dean protests. “I’m not saying that I didn’t enjoy my time here, but if I could do it all again, I would have tried harder for normalcy. I would have gone to college, would’ve done the whole nine to five gig gladly.”

“You do have a chance,” Castiel says carefully. “I mean, once we find the people who killed you and Sammy, you don’t _have_ to die.”

“Yeah? You think I deserve a second chance?” Dean sneers.

“I think there was a reason that I found you after all these years,” he tells him sincerely. “That fate,” Dean scoffs, “or whatever brought me to you.”

“Or just bad luck,” Dean says quietly.

They drive the rest of way in silence.

-

Whatever Castiel expected from this Bobby Singer, he wasn’t expecting an old junkyard with a Victorian farmhouse in the centre of it. But it must be the place as the sign says “Singer Auto Salvages” and Dean starts grinning as soon as they turn into the driveway.

“How do you know this Bobby Singer?”

“An old friend of Dad’s. They were in the same line of business.”

That makes sense. Castiel remembers vaguely that John Winchester was a mechanic.

Dean is practically beaming when he knocks at the door.

“Surprise,” Dean states when the door opens. A short man in a baseball cap stands before them.

“I don’t-” the man gasps.

“Yeah, me either,” Dean says moving inside. “But here I am.”

Castiel expects the two men to embrace, to greet each other, but Bobby moves surprisingly quickly for a man of his age, bringing out a knife. Dean is quicker though, dodging the knife before being taken by surprise by a punch to the face.

“Bobby, it’s me,” Dean gasps, hand to his nose.

“My ass,” Bobby says, moving to Dean, knife in hand. Dean moves back.

“Wait! Your name is Robert Steven Singer. You became a hunter after your wife got possessed. You were there the first time I got so drunk I puked and you let me live with you after Dad kicked me out when I told him I was gay and he refused to speak to me for a year. You’re about the closest thing I have to a father.”

Bobby slowly lowers his arm.

“Bobby, it’s me.”

Castiel watches as Bobby reaches out and touches Dean. He thinks for a moment that all is well, but again Bobby swings to take a stab at Dean. Dean moves fast, deflecting the blade once again and grabbing Bobby’s arm.

“I’m not a shape-shifter,” he says, pulling Bobby’s right arm behind his back, grabbing the knife from his hand. “Alright, if I was a shapeshifter, could I do this with a silver knife?”

Dean pulls up his sleeve, and to Castiel’s horror, cuts his forearm. Whatever this actions means, it calms Bobby down.

“Dean?” Bobby says, moving towards Dean.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” Dean says as they hug. Bobby turns to Castiel.

“Who the hell is this?”

“Bobby, he’s the reason that I’m back,” Dean says, his entire face breaking into a smile as he looks at Castiel. “Castiel Novak, this is Bobby Singer.”

Bobby turns to Castiel. “Novak? You mean the first boy that you kissed?”

Castiel looks sharply to Dean, who is turning red, his smile dropping.

“Uh, Bobby, could I talk to you alone?” Dean asks, signalling to the kitchen.

Castiel is left alone to examine the living room. Bobby has quite the collection of books, and he looks enviously at some of the 1st editions that are lining the walls. Bobby and Dean return a few minutes later with Dean looking suspiciously at Castiel. They splash water on him, making him taste salt and ask him to hold out his arm. When Castiel looks to Dean, he is only given a bored ‘go-ahead’ before Bobby cuts into his arm. Bobby nods to Dean, making Dean visibly relax.

“So the number you gave me for Sam is not working,” Dean states.

“He’s alive, as far as I know,” Bobby tells him.

“What do you mean as far as you know. Bobby, you’re suppose to be watching out for him.”

“Hey, I haven’t heard from him in a year.”

“You haven’t talked with him for a year?” Dean yells.

“His number is dead and he refuses to speak to me. Said something about me taking your side. I’ve had some people try to track him for a bit, but he’s off the radar now. Haven’t heard from him since.”

“Well, that’s just great,” Dean mutters, moving for an open bottle of Johnny Walker’s Red that is sitting on the table. Bobby looks disapprovingly as Dean takes a swig.

“Does he know?” Bobby signals to Castiel.

“Nah, he’s just following me around cause he likes me. Of course I told him. I mean, not all of it. It isn’t any of his business.”

Castiel tries not to look hurt, but Bobby looks plenty offended on his behalf.

“Hate to say it, but I think once a guy raises you from the dead, your business is his.”

Castiel is slightly honoured that this strange man is defending him, even if Bobby Singer refuses to look directly at him. It’s better than Dean, the person he actually shares a personal history with, who is openly pretending that he isn’t in the room. 

“If it isn’t too painful for you, could you at least look at me when you’re talking about me?” Castiel growls. Both men turn to him and Castiel can see Bobby raising an eyebrow to Dean. He takes a deep breath. “I am aware of Dean’s past and his relationship to this case.”

Both Bobby and Dean look doubtful.

“So could at least tell me what’s going on?”

Dean takes another swig from the liquor bottle. “We’re both hunters. We hunt supernatural creatures- ghosts, demons, werewolves. You name it, we’ve probably killed it.”

“You hunt ghosts?”

“Hey, don’t look at me like I’m crazy, you’re the one who raises the dead. Cas, you don’t know what I’ve been through to find these sons of bitches. You think my worst crime is credit-card fraud…” Dean laughs weakly. “People have gotten hurt because of me. I have seen and done things that nobody in their right mind would do.”

Dean looks broken now, staring down at the bottle in his hand. He shakily puts it back on the table. “I lied to my brother, made him feel like shit for his decision to go to college and ignored any request for us to reunite again, just so that he could have a normal life. I’m poison, Cas. Nobody can get near me without getting hurt.”

Bobby looks like he’s going to protest, but Dean shoots him a challenging glare and he remains silent.

“Anyway,” Dean sighs. “That’s what we’re tracking. Demons.”

-

The poor guy looks shell-shocked- and if Dean had the time, he would understand- but right now his main priority is Sammy, not some dude he knew when he was fourteen. Plus, he doesn’t need all the extra guilt, all that faithful trust from Cas. He doesn’t need to the guy looking at him like he’s some poor sucker. He doesn’t need to be watched over.

So he leaves Castiel in the living room, moving Bobby to the kitchen so that they can figure out a plan to find Sammy. Dean tries turning on the GPS of all of Sammy’s phones, but there’s nothing. He calls Stanford and looks through their records to see if they are aware of Sam’s whereabouts seeing that he’s alumni and all. Again, nothing turns up. Sammy should have graduated law school by now and be some great lawyer, but Stanford has nothing on him.

As he racking his brain to figure out just how to find Sammy, Bobby is calling up all his contacts, sending out word for them to keep an eye out for Sam. They only take a break to make and eat dinner (piss-poor beans on toast) and it’s almost two in the morning when Dean slumps back into his chair, exhausted and frustrated. At this moment, he glances over to the living room, only to see that Castiel has long fallen asleep on the couch.

“Wake him for me,” Dean grunts at Bobby.

“What am I, your slave?” Bobby mutters.

“I can’t touch the dude, that’s part of the magic spell or something. One touch from him and I’m back sleeping with the fishes.”

“You mean Prince Charming over there brought you back to life, but he can’t claim his reward?” Bobby scoffs.

“Okay, first off, I’m not some princess and second, yeah, that’s about it. Just put him to bed for me.”

Obviously Castiel is not happy about being woken up and shuffled upstairs to the spare bedroom, but Dean chuckles at how owl-like Cas looks- all wide-eye and ruffled- when Bobby shakes him awake. Castiel hears him and shoots him a dirty look before following Bobby upstairs.

Bobby comes down with a determined look on his face like they’re going to have little heart to heart, which should be exceptionally awkward. Dean ignores Bobby sitting down next to him, randomly opening up an old leather-bound book that looks like it has blood on it.

“So you knew Castiel before this,” Bobby eventually asks, grabbing the book away from Dean.

“Yeah, he was a neighbour back when I was like fourteen or something, before we left Lawrence. He was a nice kid. Kind of nerdy though. My mom seemed to like him.”

God, the memory of his mother is like a jab to his side. It still hurts- even after ten or so years. His mom was just so _good_. He remembers how she used to invite Castiel over for pie. She never said outright what she was doing, but Dean would come home and find a pie-smeared plate always in the same location and his mother talking about how nice Cas was and why doesn’t Dean try and hang out with him more. The poor guy had a less than ideal family life, Dean remembers, and Mary just had so much love to share. She used to scold him whenever Dean joked about Castiel, always telling him there was something special about that Novak boy. Guess she was right in the end.

“Kind of strange,” Dean laughs, “that I use to live next to a necromancer.”

“But he’s not,” Bobby says gravely. “He’s not anything I’ve ever heard of. And that makes him dangerous in my book. Hell in _all_ hunter’s books.”

“You’re not going to study him like he’s some insect, Bobby,” Dean warns. “You’re not going to tie him in your basement and torture some facts out of him.”

“You trust him?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Dean rubs his face, trying to work out a growing headache. “I mean, I don’t know. He’s not _dangerous_ \- not really. He’s just Cas. And hey, I can clearly trust him with my life,” Dean jokes.

Bobby gives him a pointed look.

“I’m not asking you to trust him. I’m just saying, trust _me,_ and believe me when I say that he’s an okay guy.”

“Fine,” Bobby grumbles. “But I’m researching the hell out of him and if anything suspicious comes up, we’re ganking him.”

Dean doesn’t agree, but he doesn’t say anything to indicate that he disagrees. They don’t say anything, but continue to work in an uneasy truce. An hour later and Bobby quits, muttering something about not wasting his sanity for a Winchester and heads to bed. Dean works till the sun begins to rise and he finally admits defeat and hits the couch.

-

Castiel wakes to the smell of bacon cooking. Downstairs he can hear the movement of two men _\- hunters_ \- and he’s reluctant to leave the guest bedroom. His head is still pounding from the information he had learned last night and he pains him to see the man that Dean has turned into. Never had he expected Dean to become this… _hunter_. He expected Mary’s death to harden Dean, like all deaths do when the young experience them, but he never thought Dean would turn into _this_ and Castiel feels that this is his entire fault.

He also doesn’t want to go downstairs because he has to face the unknown. Dean and Bobby are trained to kill things that children tell each other about over campfires. They don’t like things that are supernatural or odd- a category that Castiel falls squarely into. He’s not naïve, no matter what those two men downstairs think; he know that by joining Dean he’s putting himself in danger, and it’s not just from chasing after demons. Bobby Singer is a man who collects books and oddities, and he’ll probably want to collect knowledge on Castiel too. Gabriel would tell him to high-tail it out of there and go back to baking pies, but… Castiel wants to know too. He wants to know how he ended up some freak of nature and maybe if there is a cure for it. The best result is that that they find something and he can be normal. The worst- well, he’s pretty sure he knows the worst and he’s willing to play the odds.

Bobby still looks at him suspiciously when he enters the kitchen. It must be hard for a man to let something _unnatural_ roam about his house. Dean, on the other hand, gives him a bright warm smile, the kind that warms the inside of Castiel and makes him feel that he is welcomed enough to sit down at the kitchen table. This smile is reminiscent of the ones that Castiel remembers fondly from their childhood. Yes they were rarely pointed Castiel, but none the less, they were the best kind.

“Well, good morning sunshine,” Dean says cheerfully, handing him a plate of breakfast. “Not a morning person, Cas?”

“On the contrary,” Castiel responds, glancing at the clock. To his surprise it’s already 11. As a baker he rarely sleeps in past 7. The events of yesterday must have really tired him out for him to sleep so long. “Have you heard anything about Sam yet?”

Dean’s smile brightens even further. “Yup, was finally able to track one of his cell phones. Found it was used less than a month ago. As soon as we’re done breakfast, you and I are hitting the road.”

“Just you and me?” Castiel glances to Bobby, who is once again pointedly ignoring him.

“Bobby’s gotta stay here and man the phones. If any info comes in, he’ll hear about it and tell us.”

“So where are we headed?”

Dean grimaces, “Lawrence, Kansas.”

_

Castiel expects the ride to Lawrence to be in the same silence as their drive to Bobby’s, but as soon as they set off, Dean turns to Castiel.

“You okay with all this supernatural stuff? I know it’s a lot to handle…”

Castiel nods. He had spent a great deal of last night trying to wrap his head around the fact that there’s another world that he’s never experienced or heard of. He feels strangely calm about this- like this just confirms what he’s already suspected, that there might be more to this world. Castiel is living proof of this, so the fact that ghosts, ghouls and such exist really shouldn’t take him by surprise.

“So you have killed things- _people?_ ”

Dean shakes his head. “No, just monsters who deserve it. They’re things against nature- freaks.”

“Just like me,” Castiel reminds Dean.

Dean glances over and coughs. “We don’t know about you yet. Bobby’s never heard of anything that matches the likes of you… but you seem like an okay-guy. I mean, come on, you make pies for a living, for god sakes! You’re kind of in the grey area for this stuff.”

“What happens when Bobby finds out something that moves me out of this supposed grey area? What then? Do you kill me?”

Dean visible flinches. “No, of course not.”

“You’re lying.”

“I don’t know! Okay? We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. Right now I’m a little more focused on finding Sammy, killing those sons of bitches and heading back to Hell. Just don’t got all dark side on me, and we’ll be fine.”

Hours into their drive, they stop at an off road diner, the kind that is only frequented by truckers and lost tourists. Sure enough, there are two truckers sitting at the counter and there’s a bored middle-aged waitress who barely glances over at them when they enter. They take a booth that is the furthest away from the group, hoping not to draw suspicion.

“I should have ordered the food and brought it back to the car,” Castiel murmurs as they open their menus. He has forgotten that not only is Dean suppose to be dead, he was also wanted for several crimes before that. They were lucky the first time, but Castiel feels that they are pushing their luck.

“No one is going to recognize me,” Dean assures. “Anyways, I’m dead, remember?”

“That hasn’t prevented your face from being plastered across the news for the last few days.”

Dean rolls his eyes as he looks at his menu.

“You know I didn’t kill those people,” he finally says. “It was a shapeshifter.”

The pictures on the menu look like they haven’t been updated from the 1970s and Castiel suspects the food hasn’t either. “I had gathered that your connection with the FBI was largely due to supernatural influence,” Castiel says dryly. “But the breaking and entering? Credit card theft?”

“All part of the life,” Dean grins. “You can’t work nine to five as a hunter. You just have to make do.”

“So what you told Gabriel about how you’ve been tracking serial killers since you were fourteen… you were actually hunting?”

Dean doesn’t look up from the menu. “Pretty much. After mom died, Dad was convinced it had to be something more than just an aneurysm. He left Lawrence and started poking around, somehow stumbled across all this stuff. Raised Sammy and me into the life. He never did find what killed her- thought it was some yellow-eyed demon, but he died before we found out. By that time Sammy was in school, and he was barely speaking to me. Didn’t like my lifestyle choices. I had nothing left, so I thought I could keep on hunting before I picked up this case. Hey, you okay?”

Castiel feels the blood rushing away from his head, his heart beginning to pound so hard that he can barely hear Dean. This is all his fault- Dean’s death, John Winchester’s death, were all of his doing. At twelve years old, he had known that he had ruined the Winchesters’ lives, but he never expected the damage he caused to extend this much. His entire purpose of bringing Dean back was to ask for forgiveness, but now he knows that what he has done is unforgivable.

“I’m fine,” he lies, flipping through the menu. “I think the drive might have ruined my appetite.” His stomach betrays him by growling. He has eaten less than four hours ago, but it feels like longer.

Dean chuckles, “I think your stomach has another say in that matter,” he grins before ordering two burgers. The waitress leaves before Castiel can even protest.

When the burgers arrive they smell heavenly, but it only makes Castiel’s stomach twist with pain. He watches Dean as he bits into the burger. Dean makes a noise that is ungodly orgasmic, his face lighting up with pleasure and he chews loudly, moaning after he swallows. Not only is Castiel feeling sick, his body is betraying him and he shifts uncomfortable as he tries to cover his boner.

“You going to eat that?’ Dean says, mouth full of food, pointing at Castiel’s plate. You would think that would be a turn-off, but Castiel can feel himself growing hotter, his pants feeling tighter.

Castiel shakes his head.

“How come? You’re not one of those hippie vegan types are you?”

“No, I just… I just have a bad association with burgers. Um… excuse me,” he says before rushing off to the bathroom. 

By the time Castiel exits the bathroom, Dean has left the diner and is leaning against the Impala waiting for him. His face is still burning (more so when he thinks back to what he was just doing), but Dean doesn’t comment, just grins at him before opening the car door.

An hour on the road finds them in Lawrence, Kansas.

Castiel hasn’t been in Lawrence since the thanksgiving after his mother died. A month before school ended, he heard word that his father had sold the house and moved to Illinois. He never expected to return to Kansas, let alone Lawrence, and the look on Dean’s face tells him that Dean is feeling something similar.

They stop at a green painted house in what looks like the middle of suburbia. It takes a moment before Castiel realizes that this is the Winchester’s old home.

“Here?”

Dean nods, clenching his teeth as he opens the car door. “Looks like. You stay here,” he tells Castiel not really given him the choice either way.

Castiel watches as Dean knocks on the front door and a young woman opens it. They talk for a moment, but by the shaking of her head, Castiel is certain that Sam is not here. The slam of the Impala door and the frustrated growl that comes from Dean confirms as such.

“They just moved in two weeks ago- said the house has been sitting empty for a year or so. Said they heard nothing. Pretty much wasted a day on this.”

Dean slams his hands against the driver’s wheel. Castiel would give anything right now to be able to reach over and comfort Dean. At moment like this, words are not enough.

“We’ll find him,” he says. Dean just glares at him and turns the car on.

-

The night is almost a bust until Dean hits the last bar. He had asked around the area about anyone matching Sam’s description, only to hear that he frequented the bars a lot. No surprise there, since Sam is a Winchester after all. Knowing that Castiel is only going to slow him down, he drops him off at the motel and starts checking out the local bars.

So far every bar he’s hit has been a dead end; although it’s the kind of dead end that comes with whiskey and flirty locals, so it’s not a total loss. Still, none of the bartenders or regulars recognize anyone matching Sam’s profile, and Dean would have been impressed (the guy is a moose, and it’s kind of hard not to draw attention when you’re the friendly green giant) on any other occasion. Finally a good-looking brunette with a low cut shirt and the ability to mix a good drink or two provides some use to Dean.

“Yeah, I remember him,” she says, pushing a beer across the bar top. “Showed up two months ago. Here almost every night. Haven’t seen him in a few weeks though.”

“Was he here by himself or-?”

“No, he always came in with this girl. Shame, he was kind of cute.”

“And this girl, what’d she look like?”

“Brown hair, dressed kind of skanky. I don’t know why he stayed with her- they were always fighting.”

“You didn’t get a name by chance or anything?” Dean says, finishing off the bottle.

“Don’t know about the guy,” the bartender says, “She might have called him Sam a couple of times. Her name was Ruby, that’s for sure. Heard him yell at her enough,” the bartender nods before she bends behind the counter.

“They were here on the nights that the local bands play,” she says, placing a photo on the counter, pointing at two figures in the background. “Is that the guy you’re looking for?”

Sure enough, it’s Sam watching a band play and beside him is some tiny brunette girl.

Dean points to the girl in the photo. “That Ruby?” The bartender nods. “Any idea where I could find them?”

“Nope. Like I said, they haven’t been here for a couple of week. Kind suspect they’ve left town.”

It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing. He’s got a name and he knows that Sam’s been here recently. He moves outside, calling Bobby with a prayer that he doesn’t wake the guy.

“Hey Bobby, you ever heard of some chick named Ruby?”

“No. Have you ever heard of calling at a decent hour?” Bobby snaps at him. Apparently angels don’t answer those sorts of prayers.

“Bobby, this is the only lead I have. Sammy’s been spotted by locals with this Ruby chick. Can you send the word out to your hunting buddies?”

“Yeah, I can put the word out,” Bobby sighs.

“Thanks. I owe you.”

Bobby lets out a grunt. “Yeah, and then some.”

“Found anything about Cas?”

“No, your boy comes up clean. Can’t find anything about anyone raising the dead by touch alone- except for Jesus, but I think it’s a safe bet that Castiel isn’t the second coming of Christ.”

God, Dean hopes not. With the thoughts that Dean has been having about Cas, he doesn’t really doesn’t need to raise the chances of him being sent back to Hell.

“That could be good? Only thing you can link Castiel is with Jesus, so that must mean he’s here to do something good.”

“I don’t know. He raised your ass back from the dead,” Bobby mumbles.

“Come on, Bobby. You think it might be good?”

Bobby sighs. “Not in my experience. Nothing good can come from defying natural order. You know this. Nothing personal Dean, but the dead are supposed to stay dead.” 

“No offence taken,” Dean scoffs, ending the call.

-

When Castiel wakes the next day, he finds Dean already awake and sitting by the laptop they’ve borrowed from Bobby. Once again, it appears that Castiel has overslept as the clock next to him glares noon.

“Hey morning glory. Bought you some food,” Dean says pushing a plate of what appears to be nachos across the table. “As soon as you finish eating, we’re hitting the road. Got another lead from Bobby, so we’re headed back to his place.”

“So I take it that your search last night was successful?” Castiel asks, sitting up. “What did you find?”

“Ruby,” Dean says with a smile, slamming down the laptop’s lid.

“Ruby?”

“Yeah, it’s this girl that Sammy’s been travelling with, or at least that’s what she wants us to think. One of Bobby’s contacts reported seeing Sam with some chick named Ruby a few months back- cute girl with blonde hair. One of the bartenders I talked to last night said she’s seen Sam with a girl named Ruby, but get this; she’s a brunette with completely different features.”

“So, a shapeshifter?” Castiel hazards.

“Could be. More likely a demon that just switched hosts,” Dean grins.

“And this is good news?”

“The best. You can summon a demon and since she’s apparently hanging out with Sam for the last weeks, I’m betting she’s going to tell us where he’s at.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“I guess I’ll just have to gank the bitch.” Dean says as he begins to pack, shoving his and Castiel’s thing into a duffle bag.

Castiel knows that this part of Dean’s life- that hunting down creatures- is what he does, but he still doesn’t like the glint in Dean’s eyes when he says this.

“Well, are you just going to sit there gawking? Or are you going put some pants on?” Dean urges, throwing a pair of jeans at Cas. Castiel hurries to put them on, almost missing Dean announcing, “We’re just going to make one more pit stop before we go.”

-

Dean hasn’t been in Lawrence for a few years, and tries to avoid it at as much as possible, but when he’s here, he has to stop at his mother’s grave.

Mary Winchester’s grave never has flowers on it- his father didn’t stick around long enough to see headstone raised, let alone leave any flowers. It wasn’t until after he buried his dad that Dean even got to see where Mary was buried.

Castiel is standing behind him and he knows the guy is just trying to be supportive, but he wishes he left the dude in the car. As soon as they reach the gravesite, Castiel leaves him, moving a few graves down.

He has forgotten that he wasn’t the only one who lost someone that night- that Castiel’s mother had also died from a brain aneurysm. The funerals had been roughly around the same time- maybe even the same day. He remembers that the wakes were held at the same location. They had met in the back alleyway by accident. Dean had left, needing to escape all the crying eyes as middle-aged women hugged him and assured him that everything would be fine. The Novaks had just moved to Lawrence a few years before and had kept mostly to themselves, so it was only family members at Mrs. Novak’s funeral and the wake.

Either way, he had come across Castiel crying quietly to himself in the alley behind the kitchen. He doesn’t remember much about that day- his memories of that day are pretty surreal, although some parts are clearer than most; like the blue tie Castiel wore (it had matched his eyes perfectly), like the guilt had flashed in Castiel’s eyes when Dean had stumbled out that door. There had been a few words passed between them, which are long forgotten. Most of all, he remembers Castiel pressing a light kiss to his mouth before running back inside and he remembers being happy that the little nerdy guy that did that, if not confused.

Dean looks up to see Castiel staring intently at what is probably Mrs. Novak’s grave. He wonders what would have happened between them if their mothers hadn’t died. They could’ve been married by now, still living in Lawrence, nice and close to their folks. Dean could have been a fire fighter or could’ve taken over Dad’s garage and Cas could have still been baking pies (Dean would have been fat in that world, that’s for sure). Sammy for sure would’ve been some great lawyer, not hanging out with some demon chick. All would have been right in the world.

Castiel looks up from the grave and gives Dean a small, reassuring smile. That’s all he needs. Nothing in life is fair, Dean has learned this the hard way, but it seems especially unfair that Dean can’t even reach over and touch Castiel, that they cannot find comfort within each other arms. Dean is going to spend the rest of his life not being able to return his first kiss.

And that’s one of his biggest regrets.

-

The only greeting they get from Bobby is a frown when they return. Dean knows that Bobby is never really going to trust Castiel, but it surprises him when he sees that from the corner of his eye, Bobby is looking at him with his frown deepening.

“You found a way to summon her?” Dean says in lieu of a greeting.

Bobby rolls his eyes, signalling to a pile of books sitting on the kitchen table. “Yeah, I’ve gotta few methods. You sure about this?”

“As I’m ever going to be.”

They move to the library, where the furniture has been moved aside and a Devil’s Trap, red and prominent, has been painted on the floor. Castiel raises an eyebrow, but steps around it. Bobby lights up three candles and hands Dean a book.

“ _Ad construgdendum, ad ligandum eos, pariter et solvendum, et ad, congregantum eos, coram me_ ,” Dean chants. It’s really a simple summoning spell with a few tweaks to it and it’s guaranteed to work.

Sure enough, a young brunette woman appears before them. Her sudden appearance gives Castiel quite a shock and Dean has to hide his grin as Castiel jumps violently back.

“Hello dumbass,” the demon announces, smirking at Dean and Bobby.

“You Ruby?” Dean says, stepping towards her.

“What’s it to you?” she hisses, her eyes flickering back. She’s going to be bitch to deal with, Dean can tell.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he says, grabbing a flask full of holy water off of Bobby’s desk, splashing it at the demon’s face. Her smirk drops as few droplets hit her face and she begins to scream and cry out in pain. Across the Devil’s Trap, Castiel surges forward, only to be stopped by Bobby.

“I want some straight answers from you,” Dean says. “You got it?”

The demon, this Ruby, nods, looking darkly at him. Dean’s seen this look before- it’s pure hatred, although underneath he can see a glimpse of fear. This is good. He can use that for his advantage.

“Do you know where Sam Winchester is?”

Ruby looks surprised. “Sam? What do you want with Sam Winchester?”

“Just answer the damn question,” he snaps, raising the flask of holy water.

“Dean,” Castiel says softly.

Dean ignores him, but Ruby looks over, a knowing smile appearing on her lips. “A nice tone would get you some nice answers. I don’t know who you are, so why should I give you Sam?”

“Because I’m his brother!”

Ruby scoffs, but underneath her contempt, Dean sees a flash of shock.

“Dean Winchester? Dean Winchester is dead.”

“Not anymore. I look good don’t I?”

Even with a pissed off demon standing in the middle of the room, Castiel rolls his eyes. Dean shoots him a grin and a shrug. “What? It’s true.”

“Well, if you are Dean Winchester, got to say, Sam didn’t care that much for you. You left him all alone to defend himself. Even if he knew you were alive, he wouldn’t want to speak to you.”

“I need to talk to him.”

Ruby shakes her head. “Like I’ve said, he doesn’t want to talk to you. Now, which one of you is going to do the right thing and let me out?”

“Why don’t you just tell us where he is? It’ll probably save all of us some time.” Bobby says, pointing to the Devil’s Trap. “Unless you have some way of waltzing out of here.”

Ruby turns to Dean. “He doesn’t want to see you Dean. Said he was better off without you. Said he never wanted to be burdened with your sorry ass again-”

Dean splashes her with holy water, glad to finally shut the bitch up.

“Tell me where he is!” he screams, watching her hiss and wither on the ground. Ruby shakes her head, moving to the edge of the Devil’s Trap. Dean follows her, raising his knife to the girl’s throat.

“ _Tell me_!” he yells, pushing the knife closer and closer into her neck.

Ruby looks down at the blade, chuckling. “You think that butter knife is going to do anything?” She grabs Dean’s arm, twisting it away from her and pushes him to the ground, the knife breaking the paint as Dean falls. Before Dean can turn over, she’s gone.

“Goddamn it,” he yells, kicking at a nearby chair.

“Dean, calm down,” he hears Bobby say before he feels the knife being taken from his hand. “And leave my furniture alone.”

The bitch was lying. She had to be. Sure they hadn’t parted on the best of terms, but a few years could have cleared the air between them. Plus, he had been dead and all, and he’s sure Sam would want to know how Dean’s still walking around.

“If you behaved yourself, we wouldn’ve gotten some answers,” Bobby tells him. “If you wanted to find Sam, you probably should have stayed on her good side.” Bobby moves to his desk, pulling out trinkets and papers from in it. He pulls out some metal contraption, placing it on the desk. “Lucky for you, I know a spell that can track demons. I’m betting Sam’s where Ruby’s at. If you hadn’t gotten your panties in a twist, we would’ve had the advantage of not having an angry demon warning Sam about us. Hopefully, we can locate them before they move again.”

“You think Sam will run?” Castiel asks.

“I don’t know anymore. He’s been hanging out with a demon for the past year or so,” Bobby admits. “I don’t know where that boy’s head is at.”

Dean pretends that last line wasn’t directed at him too.

-

Dean returns late that night, although he doesn’t even bother trying to sneak in. Castiel wakes to the slam of door being shut and he creeps downstairs to find Dean opening a beer.

“Cas!” Dean says brightly, his face flushed, his eyes blurry. “Grab a beer.”

Castiel shakes his head, but moves into the kitchen. Dean shrugs at the refusal and leans against the counter, giving Castiel a mock toast before he brings the bottle to his lips.

“What’s keeping you awake?” he slurs.

“Frankly, you,” Castiel says. He expected Dean to return sheepish or still angry, not this cheerful and not this visibly drunk.

“Sorry if I woke you,” he says smiling and clearly not sorry.

“Dean, Bobby has found Sam,” he says slowly, hoping that this will sober Dean up.

“Yeah, that’s just great,” Dean mumbles, slamming him down onto a kitchen chair.

“I thought you would be pleased with the news.”

“You heard that demon skank. He doesn’t want to see me. Guess he’s not that torn up about my death. Better touch me now and send me back to Hell.”

“Dean, we had a deal-”

“Come on, Cas. I know the rules, we’ve played this game. I’m a freak- an even bigger freak than you. I don’t deserve to be here. You were-” he chokes on the words, looking down at the bottle in his hand. “You were just allowing me some closure before you zap me back to the underworld.”

“Dean, I brought you back for entirely selfish reasons.”

“Yeah, you need me to solve those murders-”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Than what is it? What benefit do you get from resurrecting me? I’m not that great of company. Look,” he chuckles lowly, “I’m practically useless to you.”

“I brought you back so that I could ask for forgiveness. I wanted closure. I had to set things right! After what I did to your family, how I ruined your life-”

Dean looks confused. “What you did to my family?”

“Dean, your mother’s death wasn’t at the hand of some demon. I was me,” he confesses. “I killed her.”

“No Cas, you didn’t.” Dean shakes his head. “It had to be some spell or something demonic. She just dropped dead. It couldn’t have been you.”

“It was random circumstance.”

Dean scoffs, turning away from Castiel.

“It’s true! I’ve told you, the world isn’t as random as you think. There’s some cosmic order to it that even I must follow. Your mother was a victim of this world’s need to realign itself. My mother had died, Dean.”

“And what? You thought you could just sacrifice my mom for yours?” Dean yells, jumping from his chair.

“No, I didn’t mean to.” There’s panic in Castiel’s voice and he can feel Dean pulling away, waiting to run out on him, but he needs to say this and he needs Dean to listen. “My mother was dead and then I touched her and she was alive again. I didn’t understand- didn’t know what I was capable of. Your mother is dead because of my ignorance. If I had known better, she would still be alive.”

Castiel steps back and waits for a reaction. He expects to be yelled at, to have harsh words thrown at him, but Dean just laughs, sounding defeated and tired.

“Well, aren’t we just a pair of sorry bastards,” he says, taking a drink from his bottle. “We’re living our entire existence on the guilt of two dead mothers.” He keeps laughing, but it sounds like he’s going to break at any moment, that it will soon be hysterical.

Castiel pushes on. “You see why I brought you back? I needed to ask you for forgiveness. I know that it’s impossible to ask-”

“Well, you should know about impossible, Cas.”

“Dean,” he snaps.

“No, don’t worry about,” Dean shakes his head.

“Dean-”

“I mean it! I don’t want to talk about it, Cas! Maybe you should go to bed.”

His body is buzzing with energy, but with Dean’s dismissal he can feel it all rush out of him, leaving him with a stomach twisted with nerves and a rapid heartbeat that blocks out all sound. This confession was suppose to resolve him, was suppose to lift some of the guilt he carries. Now he’s standing in a stranger’s kitchen, exhausted and drained.

“We can find Sam,” he tells Dean wearily.

“I know we can,” Dean snaps back. “And we will- tomorrow. I just need some time to… I need to think before I can face you. Just go to sleep.”

-

The low murmuring immediately stops when Castiel enters the kitchen the next morning, and he is greeted by a cold hello from Dean. He had expected this and honestly would have been surprised if Dean acted otherwise.

Breakfast is predictable awkward, made more so by the pitying looks that Bobby keeps giving him. Bobby doesn’t say a word either, and Castiel suspects that the man might have overheard the conversation last night- it was hard not to- and is probably just as pissed off at Castiel as Dean is. Dean doesn’t speak the entire meal, just inhales breakfast before heading upstairs, only to appear five minutes later with a duffle bag over his shoulder and the keys for the Impala dangling in his hands. He pauses at the door.

“You coming?” he asks, shaking the keys in his hands. Castiel wasn’t sure that Dean would want him to follow… but apparently killing his mother isn’t enough to stop Dean from craving company on the road. Quickly, Castiel finishes his breakfast, hurrying to gather his stuff. Just as he’s about to leave, Bobby grabs his arm and pulls him aside.

“You keep an eye on him. He may be mad at you, but that doesn’t mean he won’t forgive you.”

“Oh, has Dean always been known for his forgivable nature?”

Bobby smacks him on the side of his head. “Idjit. Just keep an eye on him, okay?”

“I’ll try,” Castiel promises.

Bobby nods. “You’re a good guy, Castiel. And no matter what Dean wants you to think, he’s one too. Maybe when all this blows over, you two can be good together.”

Castiel’s not sure about this, especially with how angry Dean currently is with him. He expects that this journey will be like the first, and he’s not ready for an 8-hour drive in complete, uncomfortable silence. But when he gets out into the yard, Dean looks up from the map he’s holding with a grimace on his face.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he announces. “You didn’t know what you were doing. I can’t blame you for that. I’m just sorry that my mom had to die for you to learn.”

“Dean,” Castiel says, moving towards him. “You understand that if I could, I would take everything back. I would have done anything if it meant your mother could have survived.”

Dean nods, moving to the driver’s door. “Yeah, me too. Let’s go.”

-

“Dean….” Castiel says, turning away from the window where he just watched a sign welcoming them to Indiana rush past them. “Are you kidnapping me?”

“God no,” Dean chuckles. “Was wondering when you were going to get a clue though.” 

“So, if you’re not kidnapping me, may I ask where we are actually headed?”

“Maryland.”

“Maryland? Is there a particular reason why we are going to Maryland and not to Illinois where Sam is currently located?”

“Dunno. Kind of craving crabs,” Dean says. 

“I hope you’re referring to the food item.”

Dean laughs at that. “Yeah, I am. Might have a big plate of them after we catch and kill those sons of bitches.”

“What?”

“Those serial killers you and Gabriel haven been tracking, that’s where they are.”

“In Maryland?”

“Yeah, I told you, I’ve been following their trail for years. Finally figured it out. They’re going to strike in Ilchester, Maryland. I’ve got Bobby searching for recent missing person cases. I expect a call from him any minute.”

“Not that I’m not pleased with you finally committing to what Gabriel asked of you, but may I ask you’ve given up on your quest to find your brother?”

“You kind of already did,” Dean chuckles.

“Dean.”

Dean reaches out to turn up the volume on the radio. Castiel knows that this is a blocking method, an easy way to tell people he doesn’t want to talk about something, so Castiel moves his hand over the knob.

“Hey!”

“I’m not moving until you tell me.”

“You’re not going to let me listen to my own music in my own car?”

Castiel nods. “Not until you tell me why you’ve given up on finding Sam.”

“Fine, I can drive in silence.”

“I’m just going to keep asking you.”

Dean lets out a huff. “You know you’re a stubborn son of a bitch.”

“So I’ve been told,” Castiel says calmly.

Resigned, Dean sighs. “You heard Ruby. He doesn’t want to see me. Anyways, I’m going to be dead in a couple of days anyways, so why bother?” 

“Dean you know I’m not going let you die-”

“We had a deal. I find your serial killer, you zap me back to Hell.”

“I’m not following through with that. I thought you would have figured that out by now. I’m not going to kill you.”

“You have to, Cas. You owe me that.”

The rest of the drive is in silence, despite the fact that Castiel has long released his hold on the volume knob. They drive through the night, both silently agreeing not to stop for the night. It’s just past three in the morning when they arrive in Maryland, quickly finding a hotel room where the receptionist gives them a dirty look, but takes their money (Gabriel’s) money anyways.

Castiel is greeted by the smell of coffee when he wakes, but the cup is cold and Dean is nowhere in sight. There’s not really anything he can do- he doesn’t want to leave the room and miss Dean, and so he waits in the hotel room, watching an old cartoon about a coyote and his futile quest to kill a bird.

He’s on the sixth or seventh episode in a row when Dean returns, this time with fresh coffee and a bag of fast food that has grease seeping through the paper. It looks disgusting, but his stomach grumbles anyway and Dean grins as he places it on the dinky table.

“Not going to ask where I’ve been?” Dean says with a mouth full of burger.

“I expect it’s for the case. Heard from Bobby?”

Dean nods, “Yeah, he called first thing this morning. Found one person missing about two days ago- a maternity ward nurse named Cindy.” He pulls out a newspaper clipping with a young pretty brunette girl dressed in scrubs on it. “Now we’ve just got a keep an ear out for a guy to go missing.”

“So we just… hang around?”

“That’s about it. Might hit up a couple of bars tonight. You know, scout out for people who might possibly be missing…”

“Handsome young men?” Castiel teases.

Immediately, Dean’s back stiffens and he throws down his burger. “You’ve got a problem with that?”

Castiel shakes his head. “No, of course not.”  

“And what are your plans?”

“I thought I would just sit here quietly,” Castiel replies sarcastically, although honestly, it’s not that far from the truth.

“You’re welcome to join. Just you know… don’t steal my game.”

“I have better things to do than watch you strike out.”

“Ha-Ha, you’re a real comedian,” Dean reaches over and grabs Castiel’s trench coat, throwing it at him. “Seriously, let’s go.”

-

The bar is dirty and dank, and Dean looks like he’s in heaven. It’s certainly his element, Castiel will admit- he hasn’t seen Dean look so happy and relaxed since, well, since before Castiel brought him back. Castiel doesn’t drink- just nurses a free beer that the bartender gave him in pity and sits quietly at a bar, watching Dean make his way around the room, flirting outrageously with the locals.

Dean arrives back, slurring his words, dropping his coat on the floor, probably aiming for the stool next to him, and plops himself next to Cas. Castiel tries to hide a smile.

“Having a good time?”

“The best,” Dean mumbles brightly, signalling for two beers. He hands a glass over to Castiel. “Hey, loosen up. Enjoy the night.”

“I am ‘loose’ as you so put it.”

“No you’re not. Hey, there’s a chick over there,” he looks over that’s been checking you out the entire evening. Why not go over there and say hi?”

“I’m fine, Dean,” Castiel says, finishing off his beer “If you want to head off with that attractive man you’ve been flirting with for the last half an hour, I don’t mind.”

Dean plays with the corner of the beer bottle label, refusing to make eye contact.

“What do you get out this?” he finally asks. “You let me live, let me run around trying to find my stupid brother, let me go all Batman on my killers, let me run off with some stranger for the night, and all you do is follow.” Dean drops his hands to the table, pushing the beer bottle aside. “Cas, what are you really getting out of this? And don’t say closure or that you’re just doing penance.”

Castiel sighs. What the hell, they might die tomorrow.

“You,” he pointedly tells Dean. Dean looks up with surprise.

Dean’s hands are right there, their finger tips are practically touching, and Castiel would do anything to be able to reach over and hold them, move forward and kiss Dean, just like he did the day of the funeral. Instead, he drops his hands from the table, and turns away. Dean looks hurt, but moves back too.

“Dean,” Castiel pleads, but Dean cuts him off.

“No, no- I understand.”

“I would Dean, I _would_ \- if it didn’t mean your life.”

Dean looks over at him, surprised. “You would?”

Castiel nods. “Of course.”  

Dean looks him over, his mouth opened as if he’s stunned, but he still looks hurt and a little surprised. Shaking his head and dropping a few bills on the counter, he turns and leaves the bar.

“Sorry about your boyfriend,” the bartender says sadly, picking up the empty glasses.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Castiel murmurs.

“Not from where I’m standing. Here, he overpaid, so have a free drink on him,” she says, pushing another beer bottle his direction. “You guys been together long?”

“I told you, we’re not together.”

“Well, you could’ve fooled me. You guys stare at each other like you want to swallow each other whole.”

“I think you’re reading too much into it,” Castiel says, taking a swig of beer. The bartender chuckles, glancing over at the entrance, a small smile appearing on her face.

“Hey, look at that, looks like the prodigal boyfriend has returned.”

Dean comes rushing over to Castiel, his face flushed and his eyes darting quickly around the room.

“Cas,” he whispers, leaning in towards him. “We’ve got to go. Sam’s outside.”

“What?”

“Sam’s outside with that demon skank. He didn’t see me, but I think Ruby might have. We need to follow them.”

-

Sam and Ruby stop at a large, centuries-old looking building that’s clearly been abandoned. According to a rusting, half illegible sign, it’s St. Mary’s Convent, because of course that’s where a demon and his brother want to spend their free night- at a convent.

“That’s sick, even for her,” Dean mutters. Castiel looks anxiously at him. “Well, this is just great.”

“I don’t see a problem, we just need to follow them in.”

“It’s the place,” Dean sighs. “It’s where those demons are hiding. Ruby’s leading him right to those sons of bitches.”

“This… this is where your killers are hiding?”

“Fits their M.O.- abandoned place, one girl kidnapped, and they’re getting their second victim to walk right in there,” he shakes his head. “Come on.”

He hurries to the trunk, pulling out a gun and a couple of knives.

“You know how to use one of these?” he asks, holding out his Taurus for Cas to use.

Castiel eyes the weapon warily. “No, of course not.”

“Okay, use this,” he says, handing Cas a knife. The way the guy eyes it makes Dean doubt that Castiel can handle it any better than a gun.

Inside is a labyrinth of hallways, but it’s also deadly silent and he follows the low whispers and sounds of footsteps until they’re in a hallway littered with bodies.

“Think this is where they are?” Dean asks, turning to Castiel with a grin. The poor guy is staring at the bodies. “Don’t touch them, don’t need a zombie army of demons running around.”

Guns out, they creep down the hallway. There’s a woman’s gasp, before a figure in white goes flying across a crypt. Before her is Sam with Ruby faithfully at his side.

“I’ve been waiting for this for a very long time,” he tells the girl.

“Give me your best shot,” she hisses. Sam raises his arm, his other hand gripping a knife. The girl begins to cry out in pain, her eyes flickering white to yellow. Dean remembers those eyes, remembers them taunting him as his skin was sliced from his body, torn by two rabid animals, both with the same eyes, yellow and white.

“Lilith,” he says. He can feel Castiel tense beside him. Ruby glances over to him, her eyes flicker black and she scowls.

“ _What are you waiting for_?”she screams, turning to Sam.

“Sammy!” Dean yells. Sam turns around, his arms dropping and his face confused and startled.

“Dean?”

“Sammy,” Dean rushes to his brother’s side. “Sammy, what are you doing?”

“Dean, you were dead,” Sam cries out. “I saw it on the news. Ruby told me. You were confirmed dead.”

“You shouldn’t believe everything you see on TV, Sammy,” Dean quips. “Or from that demon bitch,” he says, shooting Ruby a glare.

“You were dead, killed by Lilith. I had to save you, had to at least try and avenge you.”

“So you what? Joined up with a demon? Found some magic powers to abuse?”

Lilith starts laughing. “Oh, you two. You’ve both come so far for revenge and now only thing that stopping you is yourselves. Come on Sam, finish the gig.”

Dean grabs the knife from Sam’s hand and rushes forward, stabbing Lilith with all his will. He plunges the knife in just as he can feel her power surging and he’s lifted off his feet. Just like before, her eyes flicker from white to yellow, her body glowing yellow before she collapses on the mausoleum floor.

“Dean,” he hears Castiel call out, before he feels a cold shooting pain in his back before it begins to burn.

The world begins to blur. Beneath him, he can feel his blood rushing out of him, warm against the floor. He can hear Sam yelling and Ruby laughing, but he can no longer see clearly, the edges of vision getting darker and darker.

There is a pair of blue eyes staring at him, that’s all he can tell.

“Cas,” he gasps, reaching out.

“Dean,” Castiel says to him.

“I don’t want to die anymore,” he chuckles. “Want to stay… with you.”

“Dean,” Castiel says quietly. “I would do anything to not have to do this.”

Dean doesn’t quite understand until he sees Cas raise a hand. He reaches forward to touch his forehead, but pauses, drawing it back. 

“Cas,” he says again. “Do it.”

Castiel looks down at him, his eyes filled with love and mourning. This will be the last thing he’ll ever see, Dean thinks to himself, and he’s okay with that. Castiel reaches out again and he leans into the touch.

Then there is nothing.

-

There’s murmuring around him, quiet and subdue. The world shifts and he’s surrounded by white, clinical and clean. His entire body feels numb and there’s a mechanic beep beside him, rhythmic and soothing. His mouth feels dry and his back aches. It takes a moment before he realizes he’s in a hospital bed, covered in a blue cotton blanket, tubes running out of his arm and stuck in his nose.

“Dean?” he hears a gruff voice ask, and he turns to see Castiel sitting next to him, his arms folded over that stupid beige trench coat. He looks to see his hand in Castiel’s.

“Cas?” he mumbles. “Am I dead?”

“No,” Castiel chuckles. “No, you’re alive.”

“Who’s the poor sucker that had to die in my place this time?”

“No one,” Castiel says softly, tightening his grip.

“How I am here? You touched me, I was bleeding out.”

“You lost a lot of blood, but the ambulance was there in time. You’re fine now, for someone who had suffered major bleeding. Doctors say a couple of days on bed rest and you’ll be out of here.”

“But the touching…”

“Bobby is working on that.”

“Sam?”

“He’s out getting coffee. Of course you had to wake the second he leaves the room.”

“Yeah,” Dean coughs. “Does he want to see me?”

Castiel looks surprised. “He killed Ruby for you. The entire reason he sought out Lilith was to avenge you. Your brother loves you, Dean.”

“Yeah, but he’s messing with something. Something evil. No human should have power like that.”

A hurt look flickers across Castiel’s face, and Dean can feel Cas’s hand pull away. He grips tighter, refusing to let Castiel part from him. _I need him_ , he thinks. Now it’s so painfully obvious.

“Cas, I didn’t mean that. It’s just this is my brother-”

“It was all part of Lilith’s plan,” Sam announces from his place in the doorway, two coffees in hand. He moves to Dean’s bed, passing Castiel one of the cups. “She needed me to release Lucifer, by killing her.”

Dean blinks. “Sorry, did I just take the brown acid? Lucifer?”

“Yeah, it was all part of this scheme. It’s what got you killed in the first place. Lilith needed to motivate me to go after her. They’ve been planning this for a long time. Thanks for stabbing her, by the way. That saved us a butt load of trouble.”

“No problem,” Dean says. “Sorry you had to stab your girlfriend.”

“She deserved it,” Sam mutters.

“So the whole power thing?”

Sam looks down at his coffee cup. “I got a call from Bobby. He found something about Castiel- something good, he says.”

“Yeah, and what’s that?” Dean grunts, sitting himself up on the bed. Castiel looks quickly over to Sam, his eyes wide.

“Said that Castiel has the “Gift of Orpheus”. It’s the ability to revive the dead, but the second touch, like Orpheus’s look back, makes people die again.”

“Okay, we’ve got that,” Dean. “That’s how I got out of Hell, but what about now?” He taps Castiel’s hand beside him. “We’re touching, and I haven’t croaked yet.”

Sam turns red. “Bobby says that’s there’s an exception,” he coughs. “Apparently it’s irreversible if the two people share a… _more profound bond_ or something like that. Like true love’s first kiss.”

Dean chokes at that piece of news. Beside him, Castiel turns a similar shade of red as Sammy.

“ _Really_?” Dean asks. “Are you kidding me?” He turns to Cas, “Did you know about this?”

“I wasn’t going to mention it,” Castiel says drily. He looks over to Sam. “And you’re sure about this?

“Bobby says that’s all he can find,” Sam shrugs. “Don’t know, sounds like you guys are off the hook this time.”

“I guess we got lucky,” Dean mumbles, his hand once again enclosing Castiel’s. Cas’s hand feels warm and welcoming, and it’s funny to think that just a few days ago, he thought he would spend the rest of his life not knowing how it would feel.

Sam coughs. “Um… I’ll just go grab some lunch since you’re awake,” he quickly says, hurrying out of the room.

Dean looks over to Castiel.

“Well,” Dean chuckles. “Guess you’re stuck with me, Cas.”

With Sam gone, Castiel moves his chair closer to the bed. He leans in and gives Dean a peck on the lips. Dean returns it greedily, biting gently at Castiel’s lips. He’s been waiting for so long to do that. Castiel pulls away, a smile wide upon his face, looking slightly flushed.

“I guess I am.”

 

 

 


End file.
